Portrait of Restraint
by Ferdykins
Summary: When pushed to her limit, a young woman comes to Smallville in search of the one thing she cannot have. A story about dreams and the sadness of waking from them, secrets and the reasons we keep them, and the inescapable power of destiny. Lex centric fic.
1. Chapter 1

Darkness is only a sunset away; the magical glow of twilight streams through the windows, warming the tiny posh loft tucked away in the east end of the city. The small space serving as an art gallery, appears untouched by the coldness that is the mainstream of the business world of Metropolis; failing to be penetrated by the bitter chill which blows through the city.

Despite the high prices her art typically collects, the artist that inhabits this space remains humble, not allowing her self to be consumed by the sharks that swim just outside her door. Even by appearance it is obvious she seems to want to disappear into the background, hiding her unquestionable beauty behind square glasses and a loose fitting peasant blouse.

Smiling coyly, she directs an older couple around her gallery.

"This piece might add the dimension you're looking for," she suggests, pointing to one of her earliest works.

"It's beautiful," the woman gushes, grabbing her husband's hand, closing in on the painting.

"Yes, it certainly is," the man begins, crossing his arms in front of him. "Of course, I always believed an artist should have more than three colors in their palette."

He turns, away, impressed more with his own words than anything showcased by Audrey's hands.

His words stinging her, she caresses the frame of the piece, as though consoling a bruised child, yet she is not so easily broken. A man such as him will never be able to hurt her.

"Yes, well, you have to make a connection," she begins, quite sure someone like him is incapable of feeling the required emotions for her art. "If you don't feel it immediately, chances are you never will."

Anxious to get this impossible sell over with, she subtly directs them towards the south wall conveniently located near the door. Drawing in her breath to begin her final pitch, she's stopped quickly by the sight of the man staring at a tiny painting hidden in the shadows near the garden terrace.

The look on Audrey's face causes the wife to spin around, desperate to see what her husband has done now.

"I think he made a connection," the wife giggles, seeing that indeed her husband is enthralled by the piece before him.

Audrey loses her breath, her hand covering her rapidly beating heart as though reflex.

For what seems like an eternity, the trio gaze at the only painting in the loft not illuminated by special lighting, or framed in eighteen carat gold.

The man digs into his pocket, pulling out his checkbook without removing his eyes from the painting.

"Name your price," he says, willing and able to pay her anything she desires.

"I love this one," Audrey replies, her voice barely a whisper.

"I love it, too," the man insists, his tone more of one driven by the desire to win, not of one who is in the presence of something they cannot live without.

"I still remember the first dapple of paint I put on the canvas," Audrey begins, her fingers gently caressing the canvas at the memory of it. She's not speaking the words to one up the man by playing the game of who loves it more; that truly would be no contest. The painting was made from her own hands, it holds the colors of her very heart. "Sometimes I want to just step inside, and lose myself in it," she adds, a far off look in her eyes.

"I think it captures the emotion we're looking for," the woman says, fearing how her husband may react to the lofty dreams of the unconventional artist.

Ignoring his wife, the man moves towards Audrey, peeling his eyes off of the painting, ready to make it clear that he will not leave without her precious piece of art in his hands.

He has written out his check to the tune of three times Audrey's net worth.

"I understand passion, and as you can see I'm passionate about your work," the man says with a puffed out chest. "But even our first loves can be bought for the right amount," the man adds, handing over the check.

As her eyes brush across the row of zeros, her face, and heart remain unaffected.

Turning away from him she replies, "I'm very sorry, but I'm afraid I can't part with it."

"But, it's uh- exquisite," the wife says, her vocabulary perfectly showcasing the pairs' passion for art.

"I would rather sell my soul than sell this piece," Audrey says bluntly, strategically placing her self between the painting and the couple.

The man closes in on her, refusing to be beat by a ridiculous artist whose head is stuck in the clouds. Before his mouth can form the words to lecture her on the hierarchy of business in Metropolis, a voice stops them both with its intimidating presence.

"Ms. Peyton does do extraordinary work," the voice calls from the doorway. "But she never has fully grasped the idea of letting things go."

Audrey turns to confirm who it is darkening the door of the gallery.

"Mr. Luthor…," she begins, her words leaving her suddenly.

"Please, Ms. Peyton, call me Lionel," he offers, shaking her hand as he consumes the room.

"I did want to congratulate you," he begins, his eyes devouring her. Turning away, he looks around the loft, adding "on all of your accomplishments."

"Thank you," she says, hoping she has masterfully disguised the chills running down her spine.

"Unfortunately I came to collect on your delinquent lease."

"You what?"

"It's a shame really. An artist's mind shouldn't have to be wasted on such trivial details as paying the rent, but I have far too many accountants who are fascinated by such deadlines, and you, young lady, have missed more than your fair share."

Audrey stammers, unable to form her anger into words. Never in her life was she a moment late on any bill, nor would she ever engage into any contract with a man such as Lionel Luthor. How desperately she wants to spill her guts, spew out the words she knows can take him down, yet she finds herself frozen, unable to speak a single word.

"I hope your brushstrokes are sharper than your tongue," he says, glaring down at her face. Breezing past her towards the painting in the corner he adds "Good night, Ms. Peyton."

Spinning on his heels, he removes the small painting from the wall. "Can I interest you in a going out of business sale?" he asks the couple.

Driven by her anger, she snatches the piece from his hands declaring, "Some things can never be bought."

x X x X x X

Audrey slowly walks towards the large blue mailbox outside her building, cradling a package in her arms, unable to truly believe her circumstance has led her to be doing something so painful. Never would she have dreamt she would have to let go again, the very idea makes her hands grip the brown paper tighter.

She had written out a beautiful letter on embossed rose stationary, but decided it best to give no explanation. Hopefully this gift straight from her heart could say more than any combination of words.

She hovers over the mailbox, the inevitable now looming just before her. If she drops the package into the slot, she will find herself completely void of the only flecks of color that have ever entered her world. Yet, the darkness surrounding her now is so painfully impenetrable she finds herself having to protect that which is priceless to her. If only she could find protection in something as simple as brown paper and tape.

Drawing in her breath, she lets go of the package, hearing it thud against the bottom of the box much like the beats of her heavy heart.

x X x X x

What exactly does it take to be anonymous? This question is foremost in Audrey's mind as she nervously clicks the business card between her fingers snapping out a sound she hasn't heard since the young boys would ride by her home with baseball cards stuck in their bicycle's spokes.

She bemoans the fact that she's only ever seen the movie 'All the President's Men' and never read the book. She wonders if the book had been a bit more detailed on how one was to be a deep background source in a story that would tear down a giant. Did she have to actually give her name? Even if her name wasn't used in a story, could she trust that a titan would never discover it was she obscured by shadows in a parking garage?

The answer to those questions should surely be answered when the tinny music shooting through the phone into her ear ends, and the man whose name appears on the snapping business card answers some variation of 'Daily Planet'.

The excruciating wait zaps her nerves with shock after shock, forcing her to cross the distance between her couch and dining room table hoping the slight exercise will calm her. She faces a full wine rack, thinking that a drink might help, but knows that her system could not stand the added jolt at the moment.

"I'm sorry for the wait," a voice finally fills her ear, "he's on another call at the moment, Mrs.?" The voice searches for a name.

"I'll wait," she says, assuming it's best to hold on to her covert nature for the time being, at least until a trained professional can guide her through the labyrinth of underground garages. She takes small comfort in the fact that the receptionist addressed her as a "Mrs." The assumption that Audrey is married should protect her identity for now.

Pacing back and forth she asks herself if that pounding she feels is that of the headache that's been plaguing her all night, or perhaps someone banging at the door. She peeks down the hallway to see the door slightly vibrating. With the portable phone still cradled between her ear and shoulder she watches an envelope slide under her door, a sight that makes her desperately wish she had taken that earlier swig of wine.

Tentatively she maneuvers the four steps to the door; the nervous snapping of the business card in her left hand racing faster. She picks the envelope and clumsily spills the contents to the floor. At first, she's glad those contents didn't explode – she puts nothing past Lionel Luthor. After seeing what they are, she almost wishes they had.

Business cards litter her welcome mat. The first she picks up is identical to the one from the Daily Planet she nervously snapped between her fingers. She turns it over and sees Lionel's signature sprawled across it. The next she collects is from the Metropolis PD, and again that confident signature sprawls across it. The FBI's card has been repugnantly smeared with his name.

The last one she picks up is Lionel's own business card. But, instead of a signature on the back, he's written, "There are no more cards to play. I'm in the Lobby."

As if a ghost, she hangs up the phone, dropping it to the floor.

x X x X x

Lionel's Italian loafers have the same sheen as the newly waxed floor of her building's lobby. Without a word, he opens the door and gestures outside much like the doorman, but he does it with such panache that no one would ever mistake him for such.

Her legs shake uncontrollably as she does his bidding, finding the rubber soles of her Keds sloshing over wet pavement towards Lionel's limousine.

"Allow me," Lionel says offering her shelter from the rain with his designer umbrella, showing far more dignity than the situation should allow. She climbs in with Lionel gliding in after her.

"I'll forgive you your amateurish mistakes here at the beginning. It's a shame that an artist's mind should be taxed by matters of strategy," he says directly to her, but without granting her the courtesy of meeting her eyes.

"If it quells your fears, I learn quickly," she says, aping his tone.

"Here's your next lesson," he hands her folded legal papers, "and I'll save you the time of reading through that mire of legal terms: I bought your building here. Quite reasonably, I may add."

"And I'm an undesirable occupant?" she gleans, indeed learning quickly.

"I think you'll find that the ultimate solution will be mine to determine," Lionel announces curtly.

Audrey turns noticeably green, her fist wrapping tightly around itself.

"I won't think less of you if you wish to vomit now," Lionel opens the door and offers the street.

"You're not even worthy of that," she says taking a large step to exit the limo.

Lionel leans up in his seat to peer out of the door, "I regret that his has to continue, then."

It is only then that Audrey notices the stiff gentleman in the suit who has gotten out of the limousine on the opposite side. Lionel slams his door shut, startling Audrey. The gentleman doesn't move.

Audrey ducks into her building, not missing the irony of her doorman politely tipping his cap to her. She finds the elevator quickly, slamming her floor's button, which is the first time that she's noticed her hands shaking. As the doors slide shut, she sees that the gentleman hasn't climbed back into the limo – he stands there unmoving.

Her apartment already feels like it's not her own. She crosses to the window to look down to the street. The limousine hasn't moved; the engine hasn't even started.

The gentleman is no longer there.

Instead of releasing the terrified shriek that stuck in her throat, she backs away from the window pulling the curtains she was clutching off of the rod.

She takes only enough time to grab her purse before racing to the hallway. She looks to each end of the hallway, and decides that the east stairwell, since it empties to the back, would be the best choice. She sprints to it, swinging open the door. The sleeve of her coat catches on the knob, which she frantically untangles and leaps to the first flight of stairs.

Her feet catch the first step and freeze. Her heart stops as she remembers something she's forgotten leaving but an instant to decide if she should return for it. She swallows down her dread, spinning to head back to the apartment. There is no way she can leave it behind.

She opens the stairwell door just enough to fit one eye in the space. She tries to calculate the time it would take for a professional like the gentleman to climb to the seventeenth floor. Would he run? Would he walk?

She shakes the thought off, thoughts like that waste time. She creeps back down her hallway to her open apartment door. Did she leave it open? Did he? She rushed so quickly; her brain never had time to take hold of the memory.

She sticks a foot into the apartment, half expecting a snake to latch on and end her life. The curtains lie on the ground, which she vaguely remembers pulling off. She tiptoes quietly down the hallway and slides into her bedroom.

The one light in her living room vaguely illuminates her bed and nothing else. She climbs the illuminated path of her bed leaps to the closet door. Forgetting about stealth she dives to the back of the closet and pulls a rolled up piece of paper from a shoebox, which she tucks into her coat.

She feels a warm mist climb down her neck. Her hand grabs the wall for support, very aware that there were three walls, and only one door directly behind her. Her hips pivot turning her around to face whatever terror might await her.

The doorway is empty, and she can't quite decide if that's worse than it being filled with the vacant stare of the gentleman.

The bed remains the only illuminated path back out of the bedroom. She wonders if she were heavy enough to crumple the sheets as much as they are, or if she were followed into the bedroom. She clutches her stomach, feeling a swelling of nerves and pain.

Her hands find the molding of the closet door, which she grips tightly. If there is danger in the dark void around the bed, her only hope is to outrun it.

She yanks hard launching herself out of the closet and onto the bed. Her feet stumble on the soft mattress and she tumbles into the dark rim around the bed. The paper rolls out of her coat and into the living room beyond. Focusing on that, she picks herself up, running from the room snatching the rolled paper as she goes.

The east stairwell is clear, she doesn't bother to check the west on the chance that the gentleman might be hanging there.

Seventeen flights of stairs should normally be a chore for a city dweller used to elevators, but she descends them effortlessly. She never looks back, preferring to chase life rather than face death.

Parked in the alley is her car containing the few belongings she has left to her name; only a handful of supplies she snuck out of her gallery earlier that night. She remembers a thousand movies where the car would choose this instant to freeze up and not start. Luckily, she would not be faced with that irony tonight.

She steers the car down the alley and into the street, passing the front of her building, where there is empty cement where Lionel's limousine was perched just moments before.

For the first time in several minutes, she's able to take a breath.


	2. Chapter 2

Audrey's head twists to look behind her as she enters _The Talon,_ still worried of knives finding her back. Her chin quivers uncontrollably, the biting cold stabbing her exposed skin, she hadn't considered farm land could be chillier than the whipping wind of the city. She crosses her arms in front of her, seeking warmth, and security in her unknown surroundings.

Chloe blinks her eyes to make sure they aren't fooling her. At first she thinks it's the caffeine rush of her third mocha chino causing these delusions that one of the hardest interviews to land in Metropolis just walked through the door. Two bats of her eyes later she realizes she's not seeing things. She swallows hard, finishing up the last gulp in her oversized mug, watching her prey closely from behind her economics book.

By reflex she grabs her pad and pen, ready to pounce the reclusive artist and get her headline. But she has to push her journalistic instincts deep back down inside, telling herself to sit tight, and pick her moment. Chloe knows if she can just get ten words on the record from Audrey Peyton, she'll have more than a story for _The Torch_, she'll have something for _The Planet_. But to get even one word she'll have to approach this particular subject with more panache and care than she ever has before lest she be branded another reporter for Audrey to shun. The only question she needs answered is how long Audrey Peyton plans to spend in town. If it's long enough, Chloe can step back and plan her strategy better.

"You're going to need a coat if you plan to endure a Smallville winter, especially with this cold snap sweeping through," Chloe throws out her fishing line. She's impressed with herself, she resisted a reporter question and instead turned on her small town charm. Of course, that one sentence depleted her reserves of small town charm, but it should be enough to get the answer she needs.

"Thanks, I'll remember that," Audrey answers absently.

That's enough for Chloe, she'll have the time for a more strategic assault.

Lana is perched atop a step ladder, updating the menu board with her distinct writing; curly cursive letters, and i's dotted with little pink hearts.

Audrey grabs her tummy, hoping the only other people in the shop didn't hear it rumbling. She's been running on empty all day long, the thought of eating a bite making her sick. Even if food wasn't the last thing on her mind, she's sure that anything she forced down would be sent right back up by the knots in her stomach. No, a sip of hot chocolate will suffice. Just a little something to warm her up, at least enough to step back into the icy winds blowing outside.

Audrey drums her fingers on the counter anxiously, just the thought of sipping a hot chocolate comforts her, hoping also it might help settle her stomach. She glimpses over the prices on the board, realizing just how far her twenty-seven dollars won't go. A simple coffee a day and she'll be broke before the weekend.

She reaches into her purse, grabbing out two ones, rubbing them gently between her fingers, nervously biting her lip. Suddenly, the tranquility is splintered by the violent hiss of the cappuccino machine. Audrey jumps, plunging her hands down on the counter, squinting as she braces for her impending doom.

Chloe clenches down on her pen cap, taking notes with her eyes. It's obvious Audrey is nervous, and Chloe cannot wait to find out why. Perhaps she can use the moment to build a small relationship which can draw in a formal interview later.

"Loud isn't it?" Chloe asks.

Audrey nods politely, "Too loud," she adds, trying not to be rude.

Lana comes to the counter, wiping the chalk dust off her hands onto her crisp white apron. "Sorry I kept you waiting. Can I get you something?" she asks, blinking her wide eyes.

"A hot chocolate," Audrey answers, delivering it more like a question than an order.

"Coming right up," Lana says, smiling, turning quickly to whip it up.

"Lana makes the best hot chocolates," Chloe says, realizing how ridiculous she sounds, but unable to stop. "Isn't it kinda odd to order hot chocolate at a coffee shop, though?"

Audrey doesn't answer.

Lana shoots over her shoulder, "Don't mind Miss Sullivan. Too many questions is an occupational hazard."

Audrey smiles at Chloe. "Aren't you a little young to be a reporter?"

Chloe chomps down on her lower lip, horrified that she's been sniffed out. "I'm the editor of a High School paper. I just stick to reporting on the lunch menu and such." Chloe hopes desperately devaluing her purpose won't tip her hand.

"Don't knock high school achievements, you never know how far they will take you," Audrey offers, feeling in other circumstances she would be delighted to help the ambitious Chloe. But as it is, she can barely help herself.

Lana delivers the chocolate and Audrey collects her nerves the best she can, leaving the two dollars and her unwanted company behind.

x X x X x X

"Clark, shut that door! We can't afford to heat the outdoors," Martha nags, swatting her large son with a dishtowel.

"I was looking for dad," Clark says, shutting the porch door. "Is he still out there?" he asks, peeking through the window.

"There's supposed to be a hard freeze tonight, so he's spraying down the crops," his mother says, straightening the kitchen curtains he has bunched into the corner.

"Why is he doing that? He knows I can just defrost them in the morning," Clark quips, his eyes sparkling at the chance to use his heat vision.

"Yeah right, and have a field full of jiffy pop again?"

Jonathan comes through the door, the howl of the wind following him close behind.

"It's dropping by the minute out there," he says, concern for his crops and his family's livelihood evident in his eyes.

Martha's eyes match his, her smile doing its best to reassure him that all will be all right come daybreak. She slides his heavy flannel over shirt off of his shoulders, urging him to take a seat, his dinner plate already waiting for him.

Clark plops down, all too ready to inhale the chicken and mashed potatoes before him. He reaches across the table, grabbing a biscuit, quickly shoving it in his mouth.

"Clark!" Martha says, nearly causing him to choke. "Not until we say grace."

His father passes him a pair of smiling eyes, to which Clark rewards with a biscuit for his dad.

"What am I going to do with you two?" Martha asks, snatching the biscuits from them, laying them on their plates before them.

"Grace," she says definitively, taking her seat at the table.

The trio close their eyes, ready to thank the Lord for the blessing before them, and to pray for the safety of their crops through the hard freeze.

"Dear heavenly father-" Jonathan begins, only to be ripped out of his train of thought by Martha jumping up out of her seat.

"Oh shoot! The gravy...," she says, heading towards the sink for some water to mix into the drippings boiling on the stove.

"The pipes...," Jonathan says, snapping his fingers as he realizes he forgot to cover the pipes to the well.

He shoots up from the table. heading for the door without his jacket, willing to weather the dropping mercury to secure his home.

"Relax, Dad" Clark says, placing a hand on his father's shoulder. "I can defrost them in the morning."

Jonathan checks Clark's face for meaning, as it dawns on him Clark intends to use his heat vision to warm up the pipes.

Clark reassures him with a smile, as he reaches across the table for a chicken leg.

x X x X x X

The wind howls outside the Kent farm, rocking the weather vein perched atop the barn, the rod iron squealing in the silence as the rooster seizes this cold morning to sleep in.

Rows and rows of corn stand erect in the fields, encased in their icy blankets, not yet warmed by the sunrise.

The yellow farmhouse is aglow, the aromatic scents of the country breakfast sizzling in the skillet add comfort for those who crept out of bed to greet the early morning chill.

Although his entire life Jonathan has risen to meet the dawn, he has yet to perfect it without the means of a cup of strong black coffee to get him going. Hoping to assist his wife, who has her hands full with a griddle full of pancakes and a skillet full of eggs and bacon, Jonathan grabs the coffee pot, moving to the sink to fill it with water. Only a rumbling from the pipes comes forth, signaling indeed the forecast was correct.

"Clark, do you mind running out and warming up the pipes?" Jonathan calls up the stairs.

Clark runs down the stairs, grabbing up a piece of bacon right out of the pan, unharmed by the hot oil as he flies out the front door.

Standing on the side of the house, he focuses on the pipes, his eyes pulsating a weak beam of heat that instantly chisels the ice off the well, sending steam rising into the morning air.

He grins, finishing off the piece of crisp bacon.

Ever in control of his farm, Jonathan joins Clark outside, continually amazed at how unique his son, and his skills truly are. He reaches down, turning the knob on the well, quickly pulling back by the sting of the hot metal against his flesh.

"Geez, Clark," he says, shaking his hand from the burn. He shoots Clark a sly smile, amused at the memory of Clark's discovery of his heat vision.

"What's Chloe doing here so early?" Jonathan asks, motioning with his head towards the car parked at the end of the driveway. "Are you two working on another story?" he asks, concerned once again Chloe and Clark are on the path of something better left untouched.

Clark, puzzled, takes a few steps forward to get a better look.

"That's not Chloe's car."

"Then who could that be at this hour?" Jonathan ponders.

Clark jogs up the dirt path, careful to not use his abilities in front of the mysterious vehicle. He closes the distance between himself and the car quickly, coming to a stop beside the small car parked near their mailbox.

The windows are covered with ice, and the engine is off.

"Hello?" Clark calls out, knocking on the driver's side window.

"Hello?" he repeats, leaning down as her peers into the window.

The ice is frozen solid against the glass, making it impossible to see if there's anyone inside. Checking around him, he decides to take a risk, focusing his eyes on the window, allowing the heat from his eyes to melt the ice.

He quickly scans the inside of the car, stopping at the bundled girl laying in the backseat. It's Audrey.

Clark tries the door, finding it not only thick with ice, but locked tight. Almost as reflex, Clark pries the door open, screeching metal slicing through the still morning air.

Audrey doesn't move, unaffected by the sound of bending metal, and cracking ice.

"Clark, what's going on?" Jonathan asks, breathless from his run up the driveway.

Clark shakes her shoulders, trying desperately to wake the unconscious girl. His movements turn her face towards him, revealing her lips almost blue from frostbite. Without hesitation he has her up in his arms, her frail frame falling limp in his embrace.

"Son...," Jonathan prods, grabbing Clark's shoulder.

Clark backs out of the car, turning to reveal the unconscious girl he has in his arms.

"Clark!" Jonathan gasps, searching Clark's eyes for information.

"Dad, we need to get her warm," Clark says, his words setting his father into motion.

"Martha!" he hollers, running back down the driveway. "Martha!" he repeats, turning back to Clark, who is not far behind. "Is she breathing?"

"Yeah, barely," Clark says, secretly fearing how long it will be so.

"Do you know who she is, son?" Jonathan asks, fearing the possibilities.

"No," he answers, his own mind racing.

"Jonathan!" Martha calls out, her voice cracking with fear. Stopping cold on the porch, she sees her son carrying the limp girl towards their home. Her hands go to her mouth. "Oh My God!"

"Martha..." Jonathan says, seeing his wife overcome with emotion. "Run inside and gather some warm blankets."

Martha quickly turns back to the house, the screen door slamming behind her.

"Lay her down in the living room, not too close to the fire" Jonathan instructs his son.

"But dad, she's freezing."

"I know, but we can't warm her up too fast. Trust me son." Jonathan says, holding back the screen for Clark to enter the house first.

Clark puts her down on the overstuffed couch. Seeing her dressed in only a thin blouse and jeans, he unzips his own jacket placing it on her, hoping his own body heat might help her.

"Get her shoes," Jonathan motions to Clark, meeting Martha at the base of the stairs, taking the top two blankets from her stack.

"Martha, put those near the fire," Jonathan instructs his wife, fueled by his adrenaline. He moves back into the living room, placing one of the blankets on the arm of the rocking chair, shaking the other into the air, allowing it to unfold over top of Audrey.

Clark unties her keds, sliding them off her tiny feet.

"Here Clark," Martha says handing him a pair of tube socks.

Removing her thin green socks, Clark pulls up the huge pair of socks he recognizes as his own. He shimmies them all the way up to her knee under her pants.

"I'm gonna grab some whisky from the cellar. See if you can wake her," Jonathan says, leaving the room.

Clark puts his hands on her frigid pink cheeks, searching her face for a sign

Martha goes to her side, folding the blanket down under her chin. She turns and grabs the other blanket form the chair and covers the cold stranger's legs with it.

Unsure what to do next, Martha sits in the chair next to the couch, tenderly sweeping Audrey's hair off of her forehead.

Fearful of how serious this situation appears to be, Martha grabs the phone off the table. "I'm going to call an ambulance."

Audrey's head slightly moves to the side, seemingly coming to. In a voice softer than a whisper she quietly sighs a barely audible, "No..."

"Mom..." Clark says, his voice changing in pitch.

"Is she waking up?" Martha anxiously asks, halting her fingers from completing the call.

Audrey lets out a weak cough, her head bobbing back to the other side. Clark takes her hand into his as he intently watches her eyes. Her lids close a little tighter, then slowly open, blinking against the dim light of the room.

"Don't call anyone, Clark," she whispers, her chin quivering from the cold.

Martha's eyes quickly go to his, searching them for an answer.


	3. Chapter 3

"She's still resting," Clark says peering into the living room from the kitchen.

"Thank God she's all right," Martha says, pouring a cup of coffee for Jonathan.

"You said she knew your name, Clark, but you've never met her before?" Jonathan retraces the events that have just unfolded in his living room.

"No, I've never seen her before."

"Maybe she's a friend of Lana's, or Chloe's?" Martha asks, handing some coffee to her husband.

"There's a bunch of stuff in her car. Like she might be living in it." Clark says concerned.

"Well, she's not going to sleep out in that cold anymore. She can stay here," Martha proclaims.

"Martha, we know nothing about her."

"She's got nowhere to go, Jonathan. I'm not going to throw an innocent girl out into the streets to freeze to death," Martha says, her tone driving her point home.

Jonathan looks into the living room, his eyes soften as he is reminded of the frail girl sleeping on his couch.

"We should probably keep it quiet that she's staying here. At least until we figure this whole thing out," Jonathan says, instructing his family.

"And Clark, I think you better not use your abilities for a few days, and we'll just try to find out who she is."

x X x X x X

Clark barely sets his foot into _The Torch_ office before Chloe is in front of him.

"There you are!" Chloe says, ready to shake him. "Where have you been?

"Good morning, Chloe," Clark says smiling, seeing she didn't miss her early morning cup of java.

"You won't believe who I ran into yesterday at _The Talon,_" she says with a wide grin, her finger boastfully tapping on his chest.

"I am so excited. This is just the type of interview I need to get my foot in the door of _The Planet_."

"Who did you meet?" Clark asks, taking his seat at the desk.

"Miss Audrey Peyton," Chloe announces proudly, adding a picture of her subject up to her cork board.

Clark's eyes widen, recognizing her instantly.

His mind suddenly is overflowing with thoughts, so many questions swirling around the girl whose image is before him; who is at this moment laying on his couch.

Lost in his thoughts, the words "how does she know me?" escape his lips.

Chloe whips her head around, raising an eyebrow to Clark's odd outburst.

"She knows you?" Chloe asks, surprised.

Tangled within his words, fearful of her interrogation, he attempts to cover. "Uh, I mean how should I know her?"

Chloe stares at him for a moment, not sure she believes him, but deciding all she can do is blink off another unexplainable Clark Kent moment.

"You shouldn't know her," Chloe says bluntly. "Audrey Peyton is riding the elevator to the top of the art world and is only like the most sought after interview in Metropolis, well, if you don't count the Luthors," Chloe says, selling her story before she even has it.

"Can you believe she just landed in my lap," Chloe brags, tossing Clark a file with Audrey's name on it.

"How?" Clark asks, flipping through the file folder, stopping at the cover print of a recent edition of _Metropolis Art Digest_.

"Clark, do you not listen to anything I say? She came into the Talon yesterday," Chloe quips back.

"She's an artist?" Clark asks, looking up from the painting on the magazine cover.

"Yeah, and she has a fabulous new gallery in the east end of Metropolis."

"What's she doing in Smallville?" Clark asks.

"Well, I haven't found that out yet, but you can read my interview on the front page on Friday," Chloe says, playfully tapping the eraser of her pencil on his shoulder, her eyes sparkling just looking at him.

"You already got an interview?" Clark asks curiously, surprise filling his face at Chloe's skill.

"Well, not exactly. But, don't you worry your pretty little head about that. I'm going to find her later today and get my cover story out of her," Chloe says with a confident grin.

"Maybe she's already left. I mean, maybe she just stopped at _The Talon_ for a drink, and then left."

"Trust me, Clark. Women like Audrey Peyton don't stop off in Smallville for a cup of hot chocolate. There's a reason she got off in our neck of the woods, and I'm here to find out what that reason is.

x X x X x X

The large pot is nearly full of quartered apples coming to a slow boil within the sugar mixture Martha made from scratch.

"This was Jonathan's mother's recipe," Martha says, trying to keep the conversation going while peeling one of the last granny smith apples in her bowl.

Audrey offers a small smile, drying off the pint sized mason jars with a dish towel. She keeps her eyes down, not sure what to say.

"The secret ingredient is the little cinnamon red hots," Martha says, with a glimmer in her eye. "She made me swear to never divulge that to anyone."

Audrey grins, finding comfort in Martha's ability to share a secret with her, even a silly one about cinnamon candy.

"Don't worry, your secret is safe with me," Audrey says softly, genuinely meaning it.

Martha finishes peeling the last apple, quartering it over the pot, the heat reducing the fruit to puree as she stirs it continuously.

Audrey watches the pot, feeling as though she's watching her insides, bubbling, raging, any moment ready to boil over.

She wants to speak, wants to offer her secret to Martha, but she cannot find the strength to say it, not yet. She's at the end of her rope, and she's not ready to let go of it.

Trying to occupy her nervous hands, Audrey fidgets with the lids and rings to the jars, arranging them into neat rows on the counter.

"Audrey, do you mind taking over the stirring for just a second so the sugar doesn't stick?" Martha asks, stepping to the side, offering the handle of the wooden spoon to Audrey.

Audrey takes over, seeming a little out of place in control of the pot, but relishing a moment to indulge in such simplicity.

Martha watches her from behind, feeling as though she needs to save the girl standing before her, yet, she doesn't know why, or even where to begin.

"Here," Martha says, tying one of her aprons around Audrey's waist, hoping she doesn't feel too awkward wearing Clark's baggy flannel shirt.

Audrey's touched by how Martha seems to see no walls around her.

"Thank you," she whispers, suddenly feeling flushed by the combination of steam rising from the boiling pot, and her own nerves rising within her.

It's not fair to stand within the home of these kind people and say nothing, offer no explanation for why she is there. She swallows, feeling as though a vice is tightening on her. She just wants to speak the words, spill her soul, and for the first time in a long time sigh a breath of relief. But, when she opens her mouth no words come.

Martha slides in beside Audrey, filling the awkwardness with her frame as she scoops out some apple butter, ladling it into a mason jar. Working fast, she tops it off with a lid, quickly screwing on the metal ring, leaving the fruit to cool upside down on the dishcloth.

With hands that have preserved a field full of fruits and vegetables for twenty winters, Martha fills the jars, handling the hot glass full of steaming fruit in her bare hands, not at all flinching from the heat. One by one she plops the jars down on the counter, every one wrong side up.

Audrey watches her closely, not understanding why Martha continues to place the jars upside down, but sure there's a reason.

Martha, although busy with her hands, doesn't miss her guest's odd expression. "Have you ever tasted apple butter?" Martha asks, realizing she had somehow lost the part of herself that once saw things like canning as primitive.

Audrey shakes her head, trying to imagine the taste of a stick of butter rubbed over an apple.

Martha laughs, seeing the look on Audrey's face as proof she has no desire to try it.

"You know, some things only sound bad, you should still give them a try. There's a lot more to some things than their name," Martha says, talking about apple butter, but her words reminding Audrey of another book she judged by the cover.

Her heart sinks, the heaviness of her past weighing down any hope of her future. Her hand stops stirring, frozen by the thoughts flooding her mind. What does she have now? Nothing. Only a tiny piece to the puzzle she once solved; only questions to answers she had before.

The truth is she had come to Smallville seeking help, but now she wonders if anyone truly can.

Without realizing she lets a single tear escape her eye, salting the last spoonful of apple butter when it drops from her cheek.

"Oh my goodness," Martha says, shocked to see Audrey so upset.

"Sweetie, sit down," Martha urges, quickly turning the jars right side up, fearing she needs to speed up the canning process to comfort her guest.

Reaching over, she tears off two paper towels, handing them to Audrey to wipe her tears.

"I promise, I wasn't going to make you eat it," Martha says, hoping to lighten the mood for a moment, her smile assuring Audrey she's genuinely concerned.

Audrey allows her lips to smile for a moment, her eyes able to hold in their moisture as her lungs struggle to hold onto some air.

Doing the best she can to calm herself, Audrey focuses on exhaling through her lips, trying to silence the pounding of her heart.

"Tell me about Clark," she says quietly, not able to bring her eyes to meet Martha's.

Without hesitation Martha replies, "he's my joy."

Audrey stays quiet, tasting her next words, beginning to tremble at the thought of her confession.

"He's special-" Audrey begins, her tone seeming more like a question, but meant as a confession.

Martha replies to what she thinks Audrey is asking. "He really is the most special kid any mother could ask for."

"I know," Audrey says quietly, lifting her eyes to meet Martha's. "There's no one else like him, is there?"

"Well, I'm his mother, so I may be biased," Martha beams.

"No, he's more than that," Audrey adds knowingly, "with all of the things he can do, all of his powers."

Martha's eyes widen, the moment she often worried would happen just did. Someone knows about Clark, and suddenly she feels her own heart racing.

Martha had known this time would come, but in the nightmare she never envisioned a sweet girl like Audrey sitting across the table from her. But, she can help wondering what Audrey's agenda is, and how much it will cost her family.


	4. Chapter 4

Martha sits wringing her hands, tasting the cinnamon that lingers in the air as she tries to calm herself with gentle breaths. The silence is cut only by the sounds of her pounding heart she's sure Audrey can hear from across the table.

A noise erupts, snapping the silence, startling both women so much that their heads whip around to the door, thinking their worst fear has just caught up with them. Instinctively their hands go to each other, each trying to comfort the other. Realizing it's simply the air escaping from the mason jars as they seal with a 'pop', they are able to sigh a breath of relief, their eyes telling each other at least for the moment everything is okay.

Martha wants to be able to speak the words 'it's okay," but she can't. How can she say it's okay that someone just confessed to knowing all about her son, without stating how she gained the knowledge, or what she plans to do with it?

"I know you don't know me Mrs. Kent," Audrey offers, squeezing Martha's hand reassuringly, "but I promise you I did not come here to expose Clark. What I know about him will never again leave my lips," Audrey says, her eyes pleading with Martha to hear her words.

All of her life Martha had been blessed with the ability to read people, and now when she needs that gift the most it does not fail her. She listens to her heart, deciding to trust the young girl who appears as on edge as Martha feels.

Swallowing hard, Martha pushes down all of her fears, deciding it's best to move forward with acceptance.

"Thank you for not keeping this a secret from me," Martha begins, suddenly hearing the hypocrisy in her statement. Feeling a pang of guilt, she begins again, offering "I guess you think we're awful for hiding such a secret from the world."

"You don't have to explain why you did to me. For months I've had the weight of it pressing on my chest. Believe me when I say I fully understand the importance of this secret," Audrey says with the most strength in her voice Martha has heard.

Their eyes lock. Each woman coming to a place of understanding for the other's position. They still have a lot to learn about each other, but the fact that they are so much alike helps them take the first step.

Martha leans towards Audrey, not sure where the road will take her, but knowing she must take the trip. Looking deep into Audrey's pale green eyes, she asks, "Can I ask how you found out him?"

Audrey nods, knowing she can't go back. Straightening her back in the chair, she draws in her breath, "I have a way of getting mixed up with powerful people. I guess you could say I'm poisoned with one of them."

Blushing, she continues, "the more I have tried to not get involved, the deeper I seem to plunge." Defeated, she confesses, "But I guess you can't help who you fall in love with."

The porch door slams, snapping both women out of their deep conversation. Jonathan comes into the kitchen, crossing the room for a cup of coffee. Overly cautious of his company, he keeps his distance, realizing for the first time in a long time his sex is outnumbered.

"Did I interrupt something?" Jonathan senses the sudden silence at his presence, his protector gene going into overload.

Audrey visibly tenses, uneasy with too many people knowing her story.

"Just good old fashioned girl talk, Jonathan," Martha bluffs with a wink to Audrey. "There's nothing you need worry about."

"Just keep my name out of it," Jonathan says, swinging down to plant a kiss on Martha's cheek.

"We will," Martha answers as she watches her husband leave the kitchen heading back to his never-ending chores. "Jonathan doesn't need to know anything."

Audrey exhales, relieved to keep everything between just her and Martha.

**x X x X x**

The hollow echo of heels clicking against the marble hallway fills the ears of Elizabeth, a young maid in the mansion. She still has trouble finding her way the cavernous mansion although she's been employed for almost a month now. Typically, she contains her day's activities to the wing of the mansion she has charge over: the guest bedrooms.

It's actually an easy job for her since she typically changes clean sheets she just changed the day before. How sad, she can't help but think, that such a rich man with such a magnificent house would have so few visitors. Apart from the very rare overnight visit of the intimidating father who stays in his own magnificently kept bedroom, she's yet to have the opportunity to change sheets that have been slept in or cleaned a sink which have been used.

"Oh, shoot," she whispers to herself as she runs into a dead end. How could the architect have designed so many dead end hallways in this place?

Normally she isn't so poor at directions, but the package in her hands, roughly rewrapped in its brown shipping paper, has her on edge. A few of the senior staff members had insisted that Mr. Luthor would not care to see it, and that it should be immediately sent down to storage, after of course, it went through all the appropriate security measures.

It's odd at how insistent they were to bury this package when Jane could see much more pedestrian mail separated into the pile that will actually cross Mr. Luthor's desk. But, when she saw the contents of the package, she couldn't help but feel compelled to make sure that her employer see it.

Not that Elizabeth is ambitious, far from it actually. She has no intention of ingratiating herself to Mr. Luthor in some hamfisted attempt to be transferred out of her current assignment or garner a raise. It's quite the opposite. She'd happily be content having never to see 'the boss,' as other staff members often referred to him, while just enjoying her quiet days toiling around the guest quarters lost in her own thoughts. She already considered herself overpaid for the job she's entrusted with.

Making sure that Mr. Luthor sees this package was something she has to do. Perhaps it's the romantic in her.

Elizabeth's eyes trail up from the brown paper to catch just a quick glimpse of purple Armani shrinking around a corner.

"Mr. Luthor!" she screams like a schoolgirl, which she will be again if she can ever summon the funds to return to college. She breaks into a light jog to catch him, and is startled when she finds him patiently waiting for her around the corner.

"Elizabeth," Lex begins, "what are you doing here so late?"

Elizabeth's eyes fly wide. 'He knows my name,' she thinks to herself, unbelieving. 'And he knows my schedule.'

"I...well, I thought..." she stammers, a bit frightened.

"It's okay, I'm not my father, I won't bite," Lex enthuses, hoping to calm the girl.

Elizabeth smiles at his charm. "The others say your father's bark is worse than his bite, anyway."

"They do?" Lex asks. "They're wrong. What's this you have?" he changes the subject.

"Oh, it's a package sent for you. To you! I mean," she's excited and tries to calm down before saying, "It's a package for you."

"Why do you have it? If you don't mind my asking," Lex inquires.

Elizabeth didn't quite know if he was still pouring on the charm, or clearing his vocal chords to yell.

"Well, I had to save it. It was being sent to storage. But, when I saw it I knew you had to see it," she pulls herself together.

"Let's see it, then," Lex completely trusts her. He pulls off the paper to see a small framed painting. He stares at it long and hard, forgetting for a second that Elizabeth is there.

"Sir?" Elizabeth says, feeling as though Lex just drifted away from the mansion, his eyes possessing something she can't quite put her finger on.

"Isn't it exquisite?" Elizabeth asks, raising the tone of her voice, her naivety allowing her to prod the impenetrable billionaire.

"Are you a fan of art, Elizabeth?" Lex asks, covering the fact that he was snatched out of his thoughts.

"Exceptional art can make a fan of anyone," Elizabeth says. Seeing that Lex is just about done with her she begins to shrink away.

"Don't forget to put in for your overtime," Lex smiles.

"And Elizabeth," he begins, pausing. "You were right to bring this to me. It _is _exquisite."

Elizabeth plans to sear the image of that smile into her memory forever.


	5. Chapter 5

Blinking against the blinding light above her, Audrey wrestles her way out of the thick fog that seems to have trapped her; the rough paper sheet beneath her body crumples as she moves frantically against the weight of her own delirium.

Paralyzed by the smothering sensation of being powerless to her own will, she somehow summons strength from deep within to raise her arm in protest to the stranger's hands willfully trying to calm her.

As though tied to a spinning top which is slowly coming to a halt, Audrey feels the world whirl around her; dizzy with nausea and unable to see the objects slowly coming into focus around her.

The sickening stench of ether intoxicates her, weighing down the lids that cover her pale green eyes. She wants to scream out his name and be safe to collapse within his embrace, but even he is too far away to help her now. Despite how dark her world is without him, she cannot give in now to the darkness swirling around her. She must fight to save herself, even against the one with the power to take everything away.

Finding her voice from deep within she pleads, "Why are you doing this? Haven't you done enough to us?"

Her pleas are silenced by the tap of heels against the cold, hard linoleum floor. The all too familiar face leans over her, chilling her spine with evil intent.

Audrey gasps, waking up, her eyes flying open as she sits up, breathless, and panic stricken.

Her eyes focus on her surroundings as she basks in the safety of Clark's room, she's relieved to see it was just a nightmare. She checks the clock on the bedside table, frightened to see there's several more hours of darkness to face before the dawn.

x X x X x

The chill of the early morning air stings Audrey's tear soaked cheeks as she closes her eyes, trying to shake the chill still residing in her from the all too realistic nightmare.

Alone in the dark her only comfort are the memories of a time when things weren't so complicated; when life was fresh and exciting, when it was possible to see the world as a place where dreams come true.

She escapes to that time in her mind, allowing the tears to fall freely at the memory of it.

_It's a beautiful night in downtown Metropolis. The sky is aglow with what seems like a thousand stars. Audrey looks like the portrait of elegance, her lilac chiffon gown sweeps the ground with the tips of its handkerchief hem, like the petals of a delicate flower brushing over the wooden plank floor. Despite what she feels on the inside -- a million butterflies in the pit of her stomach screaming how she does not belong in this world -- her looks and artwork say the exact opposite. _

_Audrey roams about the gallery which busts at the seams with Metropolis society, quietly staying hidden in the shadows. Although she is the guest of honor, as it is her opening, she is at a loss when it comes to fitting in with millionaires and socialites. She takes a sip of her champagne, allowing her eyes to graze the room. _

_As her eyes dance about the posh loft, she is amazed at who she sees. The 'creme de la creme' of Metropolis are all there to celebrate work she has done with her small town hands. People, who until now, have been consigned to the business and society pages of The Daily Planet. Tony Stark staggers to the bathroom so drunk he looks like he's in a different universe. Towards the bar, she instantly recognizes Lionel Luthor, a man whose power is so abundant she has to turn away as though blinded by a great light. She is amazed that an event centered around her would cause someone as dynamic as him to attend. She swallows, trying to appear at ease among the elite. _

_She looks up and her eyes catch a glimpse of the most handsome man in the room. He is swimming in a sea of women, all of whom would gladly eat out of his hand if he were to request it. Audrey is mesmerized by him. Not just by his stunning good looks and apparent charm, but by the incredible confidence and attention he pays his present company. She moves in closer, as if lured in by his charms. She has heard of him, who hasn't? The millionaire playboy, and no doubt one of the most eligible bachelors in Metropolis. In normal circumstances a girl like Audrey Peyton could not get within twenty miles of Bruce Wayne, but tonight, this night, she's within feet of him. _

_She watches him flirt and drink champagne, all the while trying to play coy. She could never be one of the girls hanging about him like a love struck school girl. She is content to just know that he's in her gallery, even if he doesn't know who she is. He looks up, catching her eyeing him, their eyes locking for a moment. He smiles as he takes a sip of his champagne, still looking through her with those magnetic eyes. She looks down, breaking free of the handsome stranger's gaze. Flushed and excited she turns, leaving the room._

_Audrey steps outside onto the terrace, enjoying the lights of the city, and crisp night air. She has arrived. Her life would be perfection if only she had someone to share it all with. She lets out a sigh, looking up at the stars._ _Just then, as if by magic, someone stands beside her._

"_Do you prefer to be alone, or would you like some company?"_

"Audrey, do you want some company?" Clark says tentatively as he stands behind her on the porch stairs.

Audrey's head whips around, his voice snatching her back to reality.

"What are you doing up so late?" Audrey asks, quickly wiping the tears from her cheeks with the back of her hand, sliding over on the step to make a place for him.

"I couldn't sleep," he answers, sitting down beside her, his large frame dwarfing her. He rubs his hands together, not that the cold bothers him, but he's used to faking it for others. It also helps cover the silence that's fallen between them.

"Are you cold?" Clark asks, getting up. "I can go inside and grab my jacket."

Audrey lays her hand on his knee shooting him a sad smile, "I'm fine." She pats his knee like a sister comforting an overprotective brother. She enjoys his protection, but doesn't want to look like she needs it.

Clark sits back down on the step, looking over at her. He searches her face for the answer to the question that's been plaguing him all night. Well, at least, ever since he first laid eyes on her.

Always the gentleman, he can't bombard a crying girl for information that is sure to surface soon enough. When the time is right he's sure she'll tell him just how she had come to know him, but until then he cannot ask.

Audrey senses his restraint, and allows a relieved smile to creep across her lips. Looking to him she says, "It's true, you are very sweet."

Clark raises a puzzled brow, curiosity evident on his face.

The smile drifts from her face, guilt now draping it. "I can't tell you now, Clark," she says, delivering it with serious wide eyes.

You could knock this superman over with a feather.

"You look surprised," she says, not sure he understands.

"I know you're curious about how I know you," she says bluntly. "And I really wish I could tell you everything, but, some things can't be fixed."

This hits him like a ton of Kryptonite. What could be going on that ihe/icould not help her with?

He thought that's what his purpose was, to help people. Here she sits alone, crying, obviously in some sort of trouble, and yet she won't allow him to help. His hands had never been bound in a way that he could not break free. Yet, she was able to tie them securely. For the first time in his life Clark Kent feels powerless.

"Are you in danger?" Clark asks quietly, hoping for more details.

She smiles, turning away from him, hiding the pesky tears who like to fall whenever this subject comes up. She tilts her head back, allowing them to roll back into her eyes. This time she's successful at hiding her emotions from him.

"Would it be okay if we pick this up later? I think the lack of sleep is finally catching up with me."

Clark nods, offering his hand to helps her up, politely holding the porch door open for them both to both go back inside.

She turns in the hall, stopping to look back towards him. She can see worry in his eyes, a part of her wishing she could tell him everything. How much she wishes she could stand behind him and allow him to protect her. Never had she dreamed it would come to this. She knows she owes him an explanation. But she knows if she were to tell him she would be putting him in jeopardy. The less he knows about her, and what she knows, the safer he is. She may not have super powers but she would protect Clark Kent and his secret if it were the last thing she had to do. So she holds it all in, and simply says, "Goodnight Clark."

x X x X x

Audrey lays restless in bed, looking up at the ceiling, as tears trickle down her cheeks, moistening the sheet beneath her. She rolls to her side, closing her eyes, able to escape in her mind once more to where it all began.

_The terrace where she stands feels a million miles away from the world around her; the world in which she feels she does not belong. The people inside continue with their conversations, oblivious to the person they are there to celebrate. The cars below speed along, unaware that time has stopped for the girl looking down at them. She feels a chill go through her. Is it the cold night air, or the electricity between she and the man beside her? She turns to face him. _

_Lex Luthor stands_ _grinning devilishly, his long coat dancing in the breeze. _

"_I'm Lex-" he begins, putting out his hand. _

"_I know who you are," she interrupts, looking straight into his eyes. _

"_You do? I don't recall having had the pleasure," he says, his eyes devouring her. _

_She shakes his hand, her knees weakening at his touch. She keeps her guard up, despite the rush of euphoria she feels flowing through her. She refuses to be just another conquest for the famous Luthors. _

_She begins cooly, "I'm Audrey..." _

"_Peyton," he finishes, just holding off a wink. _

_His confidence both irritates and excites her. She looks at him, trying to read his intentions. The party is full of women who have been eyeing him all night. He has looks, charm, money and power; everything it takes to seduce a woman. Well, the kind he usually entertains. _

_Why is he on the terrace toying with her? She has met men like him before; those that see women as conquests and objects but are never interested in what they know or do -- just what they are useful for that night. She wasn't interested in being another notch on a millionaire's belt buckle, and she was going to let him know that. _

"_A pleasure, Ms. Peyton," Lex says, still trying to charm her._

_Her distance towards him is apparent in her eyes. _

"_I think I should go back in and join my guests," she says, turning her back to him, becoming dizzy from the pounding of her own heart. _

_He puts his hand on her forearm gently, a gesture urging her to stay. Her eyes go quickly to his, hoping the daggers she's shooting from them will pierce into him. _

_The look on his face, the light in his eyes reveal something deeper, more sincere. She tries to fight what her giddy heart is feeling. Her head keeps screaming that she knows better, warning her of his reputation. But her heart, her silly heart which seems to have just come alive for the first time can't help but make her stay outside a little longer._

"_I know what it's like to want to be alone," Lex says, looking off into the distance. "Problem is if you spend enough time by yourself, you start to repel people," he says, his tone less seductive, more sincere. _

"_You're not repelling me," she says softly, taking a step closer to him. "It's just..." she begins._

"_It's just that you think I'm like my father," he says turning to look at her._

"_I don't know your father," she says, innocently._

_He smiles, the glimmer in his eyes tickling her. Everyone who has ever drawn breath in Metropolis knows Lionel Luthor._

"_Okay, I know who he is, but we've never met," she says, starting to give into him._

"_It's okay, I've been judged my entire life by people. Either by the way I look or by my last name," Lex says, feeling every insult he's endured over the years as though they just occurred._

_Audrey feels awful. She never would have imagined a Luthor capable of such emotions. _

_She had always felt that way. The awkward artist, always struggling to get by, praying one day she'd catch a break. Now that she had, she can't help but keep the walls up and feel like she's not worthy of her surroundings secretly fearing one day the veil will come down and they will all see her as an outsider and she will fall farther than anyone ever fell._

"_I'm just a little surprised that you would leave the party to come out here to stand," Audrey states, still curious about his motivation. _

"_And yet, it's all for you inside and here you stand," Lex says, looking at her. "Maybe you and I, Audrey just don't belong in a world full of champagne and idle chit chat."_

_It's true. She would happily give up the party, and press and all the money from the sales of her pieces, the position she had fought so long to secure, if it meant she could spend more time here, exploring these uncharted emotions with the man who seems to want to do the same._

_She looks up at him, their eyes locking. Maybe he is all wrong for her. Maybe they are meant to always live on opposite sides. Maybe her heart will be broken. Or maybe, just maybe, he will change her life forever, and she will change his. Audrey hangs onto that hope, the tiny sliver of hope that this, she and Lex Luthor, could be meant to be. She gazes up into his eyes, opening herself to a world of intimacy with the last man she would've ever expected._


	6. Chapter 6

I just wanted to say a quick thank you to everyone who has taken the time to read my story. All of your comments have touched me, and encourage me to continue writing this fic to share with you. From the bottom of my heart I thank you. :)

And now, here's a little something for you to enjoy. Be forewarned this update is quite lengthy. I hope you like it.

Happy Thanksgiving. :)

x x x x x x x x x x x x x x

Audrey sits drenched in the early morning sun, perched in the corner of the wide hay door, cradling her bent legs in her arms. Beside her stands her easel salvaged from the small car concealed beneath the bales of hay, a precaution taken by the always cautious man of the house. Despite the plethora of supplies at her fingertips, and the talent in her blood, Audrey cannot bring herself to lift a brush, having lost the ability to find joy in painting, feeling as though all the passion for the life she once loved is slipping away.

Lost in her thoughts, she playfully fidgets with the gold chain around her neck. The small charm dangling from the delicate chain catches a ray of sunshine, sending prisms to bounce off the worn wooden planks of the barn.

A small smile finds its way to her lips, a stark contrast to the wells of tears evident in her eyes. The small sliver of joy she gets watching the light playfully dance around helps ease her mind, leaving her a feeling of hope she can cling to.

x X x X x

Jonathan sits at the head of the table, watching his son from over his cup of coffee. It's obvious Clark is working through something in his mind, a site that always sets his father on edge.

"What is it, Son?" Jonathan asks setting down his cup, already unable to relax given the presence of Audrey just outside their home.

"She was crying last night," Clark says, uncharacteristically ignoring the food on his plate.

Martha sits down the pitcher of orange juice, taking a seat beside him at the table.

"Did she tell you how she knows your name?" Jonathan prods, hoping to quickly get to the bottom of the mystery that landed on his doorstep.

Martha remains stoic, not even flinching with the knowledge that Audrey knows more, much more than just Clark's name.

Clark shakes his head, frustrated at the feeling of being powerless when it comes to Audrey's fears, most especially since she won't reveal what they are.

"Did she say anything to you?" Martha asks gently, curious if Audrey had shared with him any glimpse into the history slowly coming into focus for Martha.

"Not really," Clark says, concern draping his face. "But, I can't help but think she's in some sort of danger."

"Danger!" Jonathan says, screeching his ladder back chair against the floor as he rises from his seat. "What kind of danger are we talking about?"

Martha's eyes widen, Audrey's reason for seeking out Clark becoming more evident by the moment.

Hoping to diffuse the situation, Martha seeks to calm her pacing husband. "I don't think she's dangerous, Jonathan," she says, concealing the bits of information she's privy to that would send her husband through the roof. Just a mention of Audrey being intimately involved with the Luthors would be more than her husband's temper and heart could stand.

"We know nothing of her, Martha," Jonathan forcefully says, his weathered skin pinkening from his punctuation. "Have you considered that she could know a lot more about our son this just his name?"

Clark watches his parents, feeling guilty that because of him they have to be so guarded. Because of him they could not so easily trust someone like Audrey.

"I'm sure she just heard the girls talking about Clark while she was in the Talon," Martha says coolly, able to cover her lie impeccably.

"Maybe she just got lost and saw our name on the mailbox," Clark suggests, convinced what his mother said is fact. "Didn't you say it looks like she was living in her car?"

Jonathan stops mid step, clutching the back of his chair with his large hands, his cheeks now blushed with embarrassment. He had not considered that even in Smallville things can be just as they seem. Not everyone has an agenda of evil, or seek to expose his gifted son. Sometimes people fall down in this life, and he's ashamed that he ever questioned his family for wanting to pick someone like Audrey up.

x X x X x

Chloe fingers fly atop the keyboard, happy to stop when Clark Kent taps on her shoulder.

"Clark!" she says, her grin wide as the horizon. "Tell me you've got your interview done," she says, hoping for some good news.

Clark's face is as clear as a bell. This gigantic man is scared to tell his pint-sized editor that he's behind with a story once again.

Considering the look she's giving him it's really no wonder.

"At least tell me you've started it." she prods, glaring at him.

Again, his face gives him away.

"Clark!" she says, jumping up from the computer, mowing past him towards the layout wall.

"How many times have I told you we work in deadlines around here?" she asks, shifting the layout around yet again on another edition of _The Torch_.

It's true, Clark doesn't work well with deadlines, but that's no news flash. Chloe's reaction seems a little over amped for something pretty typical in their relationship.

Clark, concerned that something else is going on, walks over to her. "Is everything all right, Chloe?" he asks, his large hand on her shoulder.

Throwing herself down in her chair, temporarily defeated Chloe lets the damn break. "I was counting on landing my interview for the front page, and now every lead I have isn't panning out."

"Every road I chase Audrey Peyton down is a dead end. It's like she vanished into thin air or something," Chloe says, aggravated that her journalistic skills and sources have not been able to catch a woman she just had her hands on a day ago.

Clark stands frozen, unsure what to say.

"I mean, I realize this is Smallville, and some pretty odd things happen around here, but people don't drink a hot chocolate one moment and disappear the next," Chloe says, back up to her target heart rate. She grabs one of the many folders stacked on her desk, thrusting one of the documents in it in Clark's direction.

He takes it into his hand, reading aloud, 'Metropolis Atrium Apartments'.

"That's where Audrey had been living up until the other night when I saw her at _The Talon_," Chloe says, clueing Clark in on the mystery.

Clark looks up, intrigued for his own personal reasons.

Chloe stands up, feeling the need to clue him in further. "It's an eviction notice, Clark," she says, her words causing his eyes to widen. Still seeing that he's not fully caught on, she moves in closer, highlighting the signature on the bottom of the document with her finger.

"Lionel Luthor?" Clark reads, confused over what he's seeing.

"Lionel Luthor," Chloe confirms with a sullen tone.

Leaving Clark to digest that, she reaches back over to the desk producing another document. "This is a copy of her contract on her art gallery," Chloe says, handing it over to Clark.

"It too just happened to expire two days ago," Chloe says, knowing she is on the trail of something.

Clark stands puzzled, trying to put the pieces together in his head.

"I think she's staying somewhere in Smallville," Chloe declares, her voice possessing an heir of confidence.

Clark's head whips around, concerned that Chloe may know what he's hiding.

Her eyebrow raises, a light bulb going off in her head. "Clark, do you think Lex might know where she is?" Chloe asks, both relieving him, and worrying him with that question.

x X x X x

Lex slams the stick into fourth gear, cradling his cell phone against his ear with his free hand. His jet black porsche hugs the curves of the highway as he speeds past the cars around him.

His plum dupioni tie catches the wind, gently billowing against his deep purple shirt, the bright sun beaming off his Ray Bans.

"Three dozen white," he speaks into the phone, his lips slightly curled into a smile.

"Immediately," he insists, knowing the name Luthor has a way of snapping people into action.

As he nears his destination, the whirling globe of the Daily Planet cuts the skyline, his view now that of sky scraping buildings, rather than tall stalks of corn.

x X x X x

Lex's shoes glide over the scuffed wooden floors, sending echoes through the empty loft. His hand grazes the bare wall, pausing to finger one of the nails remaining in the dry wall, its beautiful counterpart now gone with the wind. He allows his curious eyes to sweep across the vacant space, saddened to find it now a shell of what it used to be.

Taking in every detail of the now desolate place, Lex stops in front of the large glass windows, peering outside to the garden terrace. He pauses, perplexed, his hand gripping the door handle, frozen for a moment. Pushing through the thoughts in his head, he opens the glass door to outside, walking to the edge of the balcony that overlooks the busy city. He inhales, taking in his surroundings, his eyes not missing a single inch of the elaborate terrace and cityscape.

As Lex turns to leave the loft, his eyes catch something in the doorway. Moving in to take a closer look, he realizes there's a small note stuck to the door. He carefully peels it off, his eyes fix as the words reveal them self to him. It's a delivery notice from The Metropolis Flower Shoppe. The elaborate bouquet ordered express never reached the hands of the recipient.

x X x X x

Lex walks into the office of Metropolis' Atrium Apartments, his mere presence commanding attention.

"Good morning Mr. Luthor," the nervous doorman says, the site of a Luthor invoking fear. "What can I help you with today?"

"Could you please direct me to Ms. Peyton's apartment?" Lex asks, calming the help with his benevolent tone.

"Ms. Audrey Peyton?" the doorman asks.

"Yes," Lex clarifies.

The doorman adjusts himself in his swivel chair before having to deliver "I'm sorry, Sir. Ms. Peyton..."

Lex interrupts him by pressing his hands down on the counter. "I'm sure she won't have a problem with me coming up," Lex says, a sly smile creeping across his confident face.

"Oh no, it's not that," the doorman says, overcompensating for Lex's misunderstanding with a firm shake of his head. "Don't you know? Ms. Peyton no longer lives here."

"Why would I know?" Lex asks, genuinely befuddled.

The doorman swallows, unsure how to proceed.

"Then perhaps you could produce her forwarding address? Surely a professional like yourself wouldn't allow her mail to go into the trash," Lex asks.

"I'm very sorry, Sir," the doorman begins, "I'm afraid she didn't leave one." He slips his hand into his coat pocket and retrieves a card which he shifts to his pants pocket, hoping Lex didn't see him do it.

Lex doesn't see the switch. Not liking what he's hearing, his jaw clenches, his knuckles cracking as he pushes his weight off the counter. He stops himself, realizing that the young man behind the desk doesn't have anything to gain by lying to him.

Disappointed, he turns to leave the apartment building, pausing in the atrium, a far off look in his eyes.

x X x X x

"I think it's good you're out and about," Martha mothers Audrey, pouring her tea from the freshly delivered pot. "It's not healthy to be cooped up at the farm all day long, every day. Believe me, I know from experience."

Audrey doesn't respond, letting Martha's words fall flat.

Although _The Talon_ was her first Smallville experience, and nothing jumped out and bit her, Audrey is not comfortable to be out in the open like this. She can't help but feel like the Christmas goose on Christmas Eve.

Determined to calm her young friend, Martha grabs the sugar bowl, plucking up a cube with the tiny tongs.

"One or two?" Martha asks.

"Two pink," Audrey responds, scoping out her surroundings.

Martha looks down at the sugar cubes, not having a clue where to get a pink one.

Audrey's attention snaps back to Martha. She laughs nervously, her tenseness not easing.

"I'm sorry, Martha, pink packets. Sweet and Low," Audrey says, taking the packets herself, swinging them briefly in the air to pack the sweet crystals before ripping the package open. Perhaps if she shows a little interest in the tea, Martha will mistake it for politeness and not notice the panic screaming through Audrey's head.

"Perhaps this was a bad idea," Martha grabs her purse, ready to go.

Audrey grabs Martha's hand to keep her there. "No, I just...need to adjust."

The last thing Audrey needs to do is offend her host and savior. If Martha wants to have tea, then Audrey needs to oblige. But, there are still those pesky nerves to deal with.

Trying to keep her nervous hands occupied, she picks up a pen off the table meant to be used on the comment cards. The cheap little bic has been decorated to match the shoppe, the pen cap now adorned with an artificial daisy.

"Well, isn't that cute?" Martha smiles.

Audrey grins, allowing her hand to guide the flowered pen across her paper napkin, effortlessly scrolling a mini piece of art.

"Jonathan said you were painting this morning," Martha begins, hoping Audrey will open up to her.

Audrey answers, not looking up from the napkin. "I haven't painted in some time. But,I used to have my own gallery."

"That's tremendous, Audrey," Martha enthuses.

"Used to," Audrey replies quite distantly, reminding Martha the operative word in her story. "That pretty much sums up my life: used to."

"You lost it?" Martha hopes for more information.

"It was taken from me. Everything was taken from me. My gallery. My apartment. The man..." Audrey trails off.

At first Martha assumes that the memory of this man, whomever he may be, is the reason for her shutting down, but when Audrey's hand crushes Martha's, she knows something much more terrifying is here.

Outside the window, beyond a black car, is the Gentleman, standing immobile in the street.

Audrey jumps from her seat, the chair slamming back to the floor.

"Audrey!" Martha's concern erupts. "What--" she begins to ask, but Audrey doesn't stick around for the reply.

Audrey makes for the counter, each step surprised to find solid ground there, her legs quiver with fear. She rounds the counter and disappears into the back.

Martha gathers up her purse and drops money on the table for the bill. She's poised to follow her friend when the hairs on the back of her neck stand up.

"Martha?" an all too familiar voice coolly calls after her.

Martha turns around to reply, "Mr. Luthor."

"Mr. Luthor?" Lionel repeats, disapproving. "I thought we were on more familiar terms than that, Martha."

"I'm sorry, Lionel, you just caught me off-guard," she says.

"Why are you off in such a rush?" Lionel says, hoping any conversation will keep her in the room for just a few moments longer.

Martha searches her brain for an excuse, a lie, anything to get her out of here to attend to her friend. Luckily, her cell phone, which she had gathered from the table, still resides in her hand.

"Clark needs me," she lies very well having had years of practice, "he just called from school."

"Far be it from me to keep you, then," Lionel pivots, allowing her access to the front door.

Martha nervously eyes the counter, and the back way she's sure Audrey took.

"You have such a bond with your son, Martha," Lionel stalls her for just one moment more. "One that I envy."

"It's not hard, you just have to respect the person they're bound to become," Martha didn't mean to make her comment so snide, but secretly pleased it was.

"Excuse me," she pushes past him.

Lionel is no fool, he can easily sense the urgency and shock in Martha. He scans the table she was obviously just at, and sees the napkin Audrey had scribbled on. His hand lands on it like a lion's paw would a mouse, and he turns it around to see it clearly.

It's an odd scribble, more like a symbol than anything. But, it's one he recognizes.

x X x X x

Not knowing what else to do, Martha heads to the truck. She's relieved to find, tucked down in the floorboards, is a shivering Audrey.

Knowing better than to speak to her, Martha climbs in and points the truck back to the farm.

The whole time she does, she's under the scornful eye of Lionel Luthor.

x X x X x

Lionel bursts into the study of Luthor Mansion unannounced. Much to his surprise, Lex is not seated at his desk, nor is he anywhere else in the mansion.

An annoyed grin creeps across Lionel's lips. Lex is one step ahead of him this time. He catches a glimpse of the small print Lex has on the shelf. His eyes fix, hardening as he moves closer towards it. He reaches into his coat pocket, pulling out the napkin from the Talon. He brings the napkin up next to the small print now in an elaborate frame.

He exhales, his breath almost growling, as he confirms the little mark in the corner of the print, the artist's unique signature, and the scribble upon the napkin are one in the same. Both art created by hands that have once again slipped out of his grasp. He crushes the napkin in his hand, his jaw locking with anger.

x X x X x

"Audrey, honey, I promise I will do whatever I can to help you, but first you have tell me what's going on," Martha says, disliking having to be so blunt, but knowing all too well that the Luthors do not let things, or people, slip through their fingers. Their only hope of a defense against someone as powerful as Lionel Luthor will be knowledge, the knowledge Audrey holds within herself.

Audrey takes a breath, unsure just how far back to go to begin her tale.

"Have you ever felt like you were all alone in the world?" Audrey asks, her heart sinking.

Martha swallows, instantly thinking of that horrible summer after her miscarriage. Weeks of despair spent dreaming of the child she lost, and worrying about the one who had left.

Nodding, she offers Audrey a pair of sympathetic eyes, urging her to continue.

Audrey tastes her next words, deciding it's best to speak others. Her heart can't bear reliving all of the tragedy she had been forced to endure.

Bringing her eyes up to the clear blue sky, she gazes at the warm sun shining down. No, she would not spoil such a pretty day with talk of the dark clouds looming over her. She would start at the beginning, allowing Martha to see a sliver of the beautiful light that had once shined upon her.

Audrey smiles, beginning to let the fear fade from her eyes, "Lex...," she breathes, her lips seeming to savor the taste of his name escaping her mouth.

Martha's eyes widen, disbelieving that which Audrey is about to say.

"I love him," she whispers, as though a revelation from her very soul.

Opening her heart, Audrey paints a picture for Martha to step into, allowing her to glimpse into the dream she once lived; the love she once had.

x X x X x

_Standing in the shadow of the street lamp, two silhouettes melt into each other, making it hard to discern where he ends and she begins. The way the two lovers are entangled, it's hard to imagine just a few hours ago they were perfect strangers, ready to live the rest of their days without the missing piece of themselves._

_Audrey looks into Lex's green eyes, feeling as though she can see his soul. He takes her hands into his, his gentle gaze assuring her what they both are feeling is real. She could live there forever, bask in the feeling that they are the only two people on Earth. They stand, poised on the edge of the greatest discovery either would ever make, the discovery of each other's heart._

_The day that just closed before them had been an unusual one, frozen time taking both Lex and Audrey to a place neither would have fathomed. The little garden terrace high above the city dissolved into the 'La Vie En Rose', where over tiny spoonfuls of decadent dessert, Audrey learned about the woman named Lillian; the richness of the fine dessert holding no candle to the sweetness of the words he spoke when remembering his mother._

_Following the path along the lake, they found more than just beauty in their surroundings, they found it in each other. She opened her heart, sharing with him the intimate details of the loves she had lost, and the dreams she still had. _

_Holding onto her words, he's amazed that someone who appeared so fragile could've survived so much. For every thing she was denied in life, he promised to provide. A statement to which she replied, "you already have."_

_As the two clutch hands, savoring the dwindling twilight, the heavens open, raining down a baptism upon the two lost souls, uniting them as they hold onto each other; the water covering their skin seeming to wash away their inhibitions and memories of a time when loneliness plagued them._

_The streetlights highlight the gentle storm as thousands of droplets fall from the sky, splashing against the asphalt sparkling in the moonlight. The steady rhythm of water hits the rooftops, creating a delicate symphony to surround the two lovers unaware of the storm brewing around them. Paying no regard to their elegant attire, Lex and Audrey lose themselves in each other, enraptured in a moment seeming tailor made for only them. The wind whips down the alley, catching the chiffon of her gown freeing it to billow along with his coat in the_

_breeze, as crashes of lighting flash across the black sky, matching the power of the electricity between their bodies. _

_Pressing her toes against the ground, Audrey lifts her body to meet perfectly with his adoring eyes. Without having to utter a single word they speak volumes, both finally able to feel their hearts beat seemingly for the first time. _

_Her wide eyes blink away the raindrops, sending trails of mascara down her blushing cheeks, stripping her to her raw natural beauty. Instinctively her hand goes to her face, hoping to somehow salvage the remnants of make-up not ruined by the rain. He smiles, tenderly taking her hand away from her face kissing it gently, his sparkling eyes assuring her that in this moment she could not be more beautiful. _

_His fingers glide up her silky skin, delicately caressing her arms with his fingers. Softly he sweeps away the drops of water running down her arms as his hands run up them. He leans in, teasing her with his lips upon her skin, his warm breath sending a thousand shivers down her spine. She gasps, opening her mouth to the falling rain, her breathing becoming labored by the intensity of his touch. She allows her head to fall back, losing herself in the moment, as he cradles her small frame in his hands._

_"Please...," she breathes, her head telling her she must protest this choice to go so far so fast. _

_"Please...," she pleas to herself as she bites her lip, her heart swearing it will shatter if he is to stop. _

_His finger goes to her lips, silencing her fears as his eyes reassure her. _

_Together they are swimming in an endless abyss, no longer feeling the chill of the rain on their flesh, just the heat between their bodies as their hearts pound in unison. Drenched in their passion, they cling to each other; sustained by their surrender to this perfect moment._

_The chiffon gown clings to her skin, the dampness highlighting the curves of her body. He stands breathless, seeing her as though Venus shrouded in lavender ribbons. _

_How desperately he longs to unwrap such a treasure. _

_x X x X x_

_Swept up in each other, Lex and Audrey move towards her apartment, ridding their bodies of their soaked formal attire one small piece at a time. With every floor the intensity doubles, both gaining passion from the sweet taste of each other's skin. _

_Effortlessly he raises her off of the ground, lifting her to meet his eyes, her legs instinctively wrapping around him, longing to feel him with every ounce of body. Driven by their desire to be one, he pins her back against the wall, passionately kissing her, paying no regard to anyone who may be watching. _

_His arousal presses against her, intensifying her own, making her yearn to feel him deeper, feeling him already deep inside her soul. As her toes curl she hears one of her heels hit the floor, the sound seeming so distant from the world in which she is enraptured. _

_Slowly he unzips her gown, his fingers caressing the small of her back as more delicate skin is slowly revealed. "Yes," she whispers, letting go._

_x X x X x_

_Audrey wraps herself in the sheets rolling away from Lex, perhaps to hide her smile from him, but also perhaps to keep it to herself._

_Lex admires his prey, savoring the curve of her lower back and the skin as it rounds down to her soft thighs._

_The door is just a few yards away and Lex is seized with a familiar urge to go through it. However, he peers one last time at her, and sees that the cheek of her face is rumpled, turned with just the slightest smile. Feeling his own lips curl into a smile he suddenly realizes there is no way he can leave her._

_Atop the side table rests a crystal vase filled with white roses. The intricate pattern of the cut glass casts prisms as the candlelight reflects through, coloring the wall with soft pastel hues. Lex reaches over, pulling a single long stem rose from the vase, letting it slide between his long fingers as it breezes beneath his nose, his eyes sparkling. _

_Gently he slips the flawless bloom under her nostrils, the soft petals delighting her with their intoxicating fragrance. She turns, arching her neck, allowing her head to sink further back into the down pillow, inhaling the soft aroma with more than a desire for renewed breath. Although she longs to lock her eyes with him, see his mind working as he explores the body she is meant to share with him, she holds on to her promise, keeping her eyes closed, an act he rewards with gentle kisses on her shadow swept lids._

_Tracing the delicate features of her face, he glides the white rose over her soft lips, the softness of the flower intensifying her desire to be united with his kiss. He is but a breath away, yet, she clings to the sheet beneath her, not allowing herself to explore the luxury of his skin just yet._

_Taking the role of artist, Lex allows the rose to gently brush across her skin, her flesh pinkening with blush from the tenderness of the moment. She is his canvas, and he delights in teasing her supple skin with the flawless, fragile petals created by God's hand. It's obvious from the skill of his touch, she is not the first to be pleasured by his hands, yet the look in his eyes, the fact that he's holding his breath for her, makes her confident she'll be the last. Beyond his personal desires, he seems driven to only please her; body, mind and soul._

_Only her silk sheets covers her flesh, allowing him to see the silouhette of her body; her aroused breasts pressing against the silk teasing him with anticipation. Driven by how his touch summons such a reaction, he continues his restraint, only allowing himself to gently brush against her skin, multiplying the chills already present beneath her flesh._

_Their eyes lock, willing each other through this moment of frozen time, he pulls the silk, sliding it down her breasts, freeing her bust to the only breath of cold between them. Gently he cradles her breasts in his hand, caressing her alabaster skin with his delicate touch. Softly his mouth goes to her, teasing her lips with a sensual kiss, pleasing her mouth with his own and her breasts with his hands with an equally delicate touch. Still lost in their kiss, one hand moves to the small of her back, supporting her as the intensity of his kiss seems to leave her weak. _

_He breathes in the now familiar scent of her hair, sweet herbal hints of jasmine and lavender able to captivate him as the combination did on the terrace. Entangling his fingers in her hair, he allows his lips to deliver soft kisses down her neck, his perfect execution causing her head to fall back, presenting more delicate skin for him to caress. _

_He cradles her in his hands, the feel of his kisses on her beginning to make her delirious. He continues on, gaining passion from her pleasure, his nose brushing against her neck as he continues caressing her with his lips, now driven by the hint of perfume lingering on her skin. _

_How beautifully feminine she is, like the exquisite rose now laid upon the table, this creature he holds in his hand possesses all the qualities he lacks; and all he can hope to do is be welcomed to cherish her just a little longer._

_Taking her hands into his, he raises her arms above her head, resting them gently against the plush pillow upon which she rests. Delicately he peels off the thin layer of silk separating their bodies, finally allowing himself to see her at her purest. This time he will savor his treasure._

_x X x X x_

_Audrey closes her eyes, leaning her head back, allowing the hot shower to spray her face. The suds pour from her hair, gliding over the curves of her body as she works her hands through the lather. The warm mist of steam envelops her, cradling her bare flesh as its silhouette is cast upon the shower door. Only a hint of light pierces the darkness, the waning moments before dawn allowing her to ease back into the real world slowly. 'Was it all a dream?' she wonders, still feeling as though she's floating on a cloud, the memory of last night lingering in her mind. For when twilight faded, so did all of the rules she made for herself, realizing that love, the kind causing her head to spin, and her heart to pound, cannot be contained by even the strongest walls built between two people._

_x X x X x_

_Audrey sits on the corner of her bed, wrapped only in a thick terry cloth towel, her long hair trailing down her back. Resting peacefully for the first time in a bed that is not his own, is Lex. Gently she kisses her finger, a gift she delivers to his sleeping smile. Reassuring herself, she whispers, "No, this is real."_

x X x X x

"We spent every moment together, letting all of the things in our crazy lives just fall away. It felt like time had stopped for us. I remember laying beside him hoping that it really had," Audrey tells Martha, stepping back into present day.

She pauses, breathing out the words, "Unfortunately as much as we wanted to be together, fate had different plans for us."


	7. Chapter 7

Lex enters his study, back from his morning in Metropolis. He walks over to the bar, fixes himself a drink; taking out his aggression on the defenseless ice cubes. The scotch passes his lips, the warm sting burning his throat. Closing his eyes he hopes the alcohol will erase the defeat of the day.

"Welcome back, Son," Lionel says, rising from the couch.

Lex lets the scotch bottle slip down to its resting place. "Hello Dad," he says, eyeing his father over his glass as he takes another sip of his drink.

"What could possibly bring you out to Smallville? Another Luthorcorp flunkie need his nose wiped?" Lex asks sarcastically, taking a seat at his desk.

Lionel grins, happy to spar with the younger version of himself.

"No no, I've got you to take care of such inconveniences," Lionel says from the bar, preparing a drink for himself.

Lex exhales a chuckle, never amazed at his father's seeming pleasure at their atypical father-son relationship.

"So, you decided to spend your morning in Metropolis I see," Lionel says, beginning his point, dropping the cubes into his glass as punctuation.

"I thought I had made it clear that you were needed at the plant this week," a sternness taking residence in his eyes. He looks to Lex, who simply returns the cold eyed stare, opening his laptop.

Lionel knowing his son well enough, realizes he's not going to share the events of his day with him. He decides to try and coax it out of him.

"I've become quite accustomed to you being insubordinate, but I can't quite say I enjoy you being indignant," Lionel growls.

Lionel walks over to the shelves near Lex's desk. He stops in front of the small painting poised on the shelf. He playfully caresses the frame with his fingers, his eyes sparkling.

Looking over his shoulder at Lex, he says, "This piece is extraordinary, son. How did you obtain it?" hoping to lure Lex in.

Lex hides his guilty smirk behind his scotch glass, simply offering, "It was a gift."

Lionel purses his lips, breezing past Lex as he leaves the mansion.

**x X x X x X**

Martha sighs, a little flushed with bewilderment. Never would she have imagined that Lex Luthor could capture the heart of a girl like Audrey. Granted Martha hasn't known her mysterious guest that long, but in that short time she deduced Audrey is no fool, nor is she the type of woman usually splattered across the tabloid magazines at the grocery store check out.

Martha does not doubt that Audrey is capable of catching any man she desires, but her demeanor whispers everything opposite to the eccentricities the Luthor name shouts.

Yet, the idea that someone could penetrate the seemingly cold heart of Lex as Audrey claimed she did, was something that intrigues Martha. Being a closet romantic herself, she wants to believe in the fairy tale.

Unfortunately, the final chapter has yet to be told.

Audrey sighs, dreamily leaning her hand against her face, wanting to stay in the beauty of her memories instead of living in the nightmare of her reality.

Longing to show Martha what she and Lex shared was more than just a typical night in Lex's life, she continues on with her tale, soothing herself with the memories that will never fade for her.

_Audrey is perched atop a little folding chair, her eyes moving back and forth from the night sky to the little wooden easel before her. She is sloppily dressed, wearing an apron splattered with paint, her hair lazily twisted into a knot on top of her head.__ Lost in her work, she seems oblivious to the fact that Lex is standing right behind her, admiring both she and her work. _

_The piece she is creating is extraordinary, the elaborate strokes of color inviting him to step into the canvas. Despite his fascination with her skill, he feels the need to tease her. _

"_Now, surely you have something better to do on a Friday night than paint by number," Lex says, smiling with his eyes._

_Shocked by what she thinks is a rude stranger, she spins quickly on her chair, ready to attack. Her wide eyes soften, recognizing a familiar face. _

"_Lex!" she says, jumping up to hug him, knocking over the easel. _

_He smiles, opening his arms to embrace her. _

_Realizing she's covered in paint she gasps, pulling herself back._

"_Oh, I'm such a mess. I'm sorry. Look what I've done to your beautiful suit," she says, trying desperately to wipe the paint off of his designer jacket._

_He stops her hands, holding them in his. He does not care about the suit. He looks deep into her eyes seeing that which he has longed for. _

_Her eyes invite him in, offering unconditional love, a sense of home._

_Lex takes her into his arms, his lips exploring those of his love, savoring her sweetness._

_Audrey falls into his kiss. Dangling over the edge of delirium, only able to hang on by his powerful hands, caressing the small of her back._

_**x X x X x X**_

_Lex and Audrey walk into the atrium of Audrey's apartment building. It's late and everyone else has retired for the evening. Audrey has taken off her apron and let her hair down. Lex is carrying her sandals._

"_I missed you tonight. Why weren't you there?" Lex asks._

"_I'm never invited to those things. You know that crowd, they want the art, just not the people who create it," Audrey answers, regretting the words as soon as she speaks them. She looks to him, offering apologetic eyes._

_His smile shows he understands._

"_Anyways, I was there, remember?" she teases, spinning on her tiny bare feet. _

_Lex walks over to her, taking both her hands into his own. "I'm not sure, but I don't think painting in the parking lot is exactly what they had in mind when they planned the event," he says, twirling her around, his eyes dancing along with her. "Besi__des, I thought it was black tie," he adds, playfully teasing her back._

_She looks down at her clothes, giggling. She grabs the end of his tie, flipping it with her fingers. "I guess maybe next time I can borrow one from you," she says grinning up at him._

_He leans down, kissing her on the cheek. Driven by his feelings he nuzzles his way down to her neck. His hand cradles her head, his fingers losing themselves in her hair._

_**x X x X x X**_

_Later that night the two are laying in bed in Audrey's apartment. Her tousled hair falling along his chest. _

_He kisses her head, smiling, content. _

_Audrey closes her eyes, trying to hold onto the moment. Savor this exquisite intimacy she fears cannot last._

"_Lex..." she begins, taking in her breath. She ponders her next words, feeling their impact before she speaks them. _

_Gently he raises his head from the pillow, sitting up to comfort her._

_Gathering herself into the sheet, she turns to face him. She takes his hands into hers, holding them near her heart. _

"_It's time for us to go back to the real world, Mr. Luthor," she says, searching his eyes, fearing their stolen moments must now come to an end._

"_Audrey," he begins, picking up her chin with his hand. "It's not midnight yet," he whispers, and with a kiss he reassures her he too, is not ready to wake up from this dream._

**x X x X x X**

Suddenly the loud, deep rumbling of the tractor tears Audrey out of the beauty of her thoughts, startling Martha, who too, was entranced by the tenderness of the memory.

Trying to blink her way back into the present, Audrey straightens her back, swallowing down all the other precious memories that burden her heart.

"I'm sorry. I'm sure this all seems so trivial to you," Audrey says, looking down. "I probably should just let it all go."

Martha pounces on Audrey's last sentence, fearing that just her speaking it will make it so. "Oh sweetie," she begins, taking her hand into her own. "Love, the kind filling your heart, the kind you were so blessed to find and have returned, is something you can never give up on."

**x X x X x X**

Lex is poised over his pool table, gliding the cue through his shot slowly. Finally executing the shot with expert precision, the ball slams into the pocket. He rises, taking a drink of his swiss water. The afternoon sun casts a blue reflection from the bottle that climbs the wall as he drinks.

The heavy wooden door slices the quiet, as it echoes loud enough to announce the unexpected visitors, and disrupt Lex from executing his next shot.

"Clark. Chloe," he says, putting down his cue. "I'd ask you to join the game, but in my experience three makes for an uncomfortable pair."

Clark, embarrassed by Lex's comment looks over to Chloe, allowing her to take the lead.

"Lex, I was hoping you might be able to help me with a story," Chloe says, reaching into her bag for her folder.

"I thought Clark was supposed to start conducting the interviews?" Lex asks, taking another sip of his water.

Chloe flashes Clark an annoyed look, still not over the fact that he missed his deadline, again.

"This is for _my_ article," Chloe answers, her tone serious.

Lex grins, amused by the backrest position Clark takes to Chloe. "How can I help you, Chloe?" Lex asks, his eyes sparkling as he prepares to play with her.

Chloe opens her folder, producing a document to Lex. "I was hoping you could tell me what connection your father has to Audrey Peyton."

Lex's eyes immediately change. He takes the document, scanning it as he sets back down his bottle of water.

"It's an eviction notice. It seems your father ordered her out of her apartment two days ago," Chloe says, her eyes wide in anticipation of his reply.

Lex offers none, covering his shock with a cool expression.

Chloe, anxious to find her story prods on with, "Why would he do that Lex? There's got to be an explanation."

Lex moves towards his desk, holding onto the document. With his back to them he replies "My father's business dealings often upset people's ways of life. That's nothing new, Chloe."

Chloe, seeing this as Lex making excuses for his father, marches the second document over to him. "I realize this may be old hat for you Lex, but I don't think a person's life being dismantled is trivial."

"Chloe!" Clark says, shocked by Chloe's passion towards the subject and frightened of her tone toward Lex, walks to her, hoping to stop her from making a mistake.

"No Clark!" she says raising her voice, stopping him with her hand on his chest. "This woman was on top of the world a few days ago, and now it's like she disappeared into thin air all thanks to the famous Luthor signature."

Lex takes up the document from his desk, seeing that it's the lease agreement on Audrey's gallery, he files away the information for his own personal agenda.

"As much as I respect your tenacity, Chloe, I don't see how the mundane real estate practices of my father affect the lunchroom crowd at Smallville high," Lex says, hoping to coax out her own agenda.

Chloe, standing by her right to the truth is not affected by Lex's condescending words. She does, however, bite on the bait he threw out to her, giving him a piece of information he can run with.

"I ran into her in _The Talon_ two days ago," Chloe says.

Lex digests Chloe's words, able to hide the fact that this is a major revelation impeccably.

"I wanted to interview her about her art, her gallery in Metropolis. I thought it would be a nice addition to the career issue I've been working on," Chloe says, explaining. "But when she just happened to show up in Smallville, I couldn't help but wonder why. I started looking for her, hoping we could talk, that's when I found those," Chloe points towards the documents in Lex's hands.

"I can see how this would pique your interest about Ms-" Lex pauses, looking down at the name on the document.

"Peyton," Chloe finishes, her eyes searching his for information.

Lex smiles at her, revealing nothing with his sparkling eyes.

"I'm afraid I can't help you. My father signs hundreds of documents a week. I highly doubt he'd be able to recall the details of something as routine as a property eviction," Lex says cooly.

Chloe tries hard to not clinch her fists as her jaw can't help but tighten. Gritting through her emotion, she summons a sarcastic "Thanks Lex," as she snatches the documents back from him.

"Come on Clark, we'll just have to see what we can dig up on our own," she adds, flashing Lex a pair of determined eyes as she exits the mansion with Clark close behind.

**x X x X x X**

Lex walks over to the shelf holding the small painting. Gently he lets his fingers graze across the frame, as though caressing a delicate animal. His eyes dance across the canvas, searching. Softly he picks it up, returning to his desk without removing his eyes from the artwork.

Rubbing his temple with his forefinger, Lex gazes deep into the piece before him, losing himself in his thoughts.


	8. Chapter 8

"I'm sorry we have to come back here today," Martha says pulling up in front of _The Talon_. "I just have to run in these pies to Lana."

Audrey shivers at the thought of going back into the last place she ran into Lionel Luthor. Trying to be strong, she shakes off the fear. She doesn't want to let Lionel consume her life, and she especially doesn't want to appear weak in front of her new friend.

But, when she thinks of Lionel, it's not just him that fills the vision of her memory -- it's the specter of the gentleman.

Martha stops the truck a good distance from _The Talon_, which at first alarms Audrey.

"A little extra safety," Martha reassures her. "I'll only be a minute," Martha says, climbing out of the truck, balancing the apple pies, as she closes the door with her rear.

Audrey sits in the truck, watching the streetlights turn on as the sun quickly fades away. Her eyes follow all the strangers passing as they make their way down the street. How careless they all seem, strolling about in the night air, making her long for the days when she too, was able to walk about fancy free. She, who used to relish the warm sunlight on her face, spending her days capturing the golden hues of summer as they bound off the Earth, now finds her only comfort hidden away in the shadows, fearing just what might be revealed if she were to pretend darkness never fell on her.

Suddenly she feels cold, a shiver runs through her, chilling her to the bone. Fearful of what her intuition is saying, she whips her head around, holding her breath for what her eyes might reveal.

Chloe and Clark round the corner, heading down the street towards her. Surely he will recognize his parent's truck, and no doubt the intrepid Chloe will see her sitting in it. Refusing to be cornered into talking about things she cannot say, Audrey hops out of the truck, heading down the street away from them.

Fleeing from the one who seems persistent to steal her anonymity, Audrey pushes past a couple in the street, keeping her eyes fixed on the tenacious blonde unknowingly trailing her prize prey, the gap between them closing by the second.

Audrey's heart pounds as she sees the tenacious reporter chat with Clark, secretly fearing the words he may spill about her unconsciously. Driven like a rabid animal caught in a trap, she fights for her freedom, wanting to hide forever from the truth of her situation.

It is, perhaps, odd that the sight of a high school student would shake her, but anonymity is the one weapon she has against the onslaught of Lionel Luthor, and Chloe announced her intentions to rob Audrey of that weapon the first night she arrived in town.

She pounds up the street, trying to walk fast enough to get away, but not so fast that she draws attention to herself. The foot traffic on the sidewalk is unusually busy for a small town, so much so that she finds herself running into as many people as she dodges.

A black limo pulls up a few cars ahead of her, sticking Audrey's feet to the pavement. It stands out against the sea of trucks this town is famous for.

Audrey backs away, but realizes that direction will take her right back to Chloe. She turns left to duck into a shop, but the door won't give. An index card is taped to the door, "Back in 5 minutes." Audrey doesn't have five minutes.

She turns to her right to cross the street to _The Talon_. Out of the corner of her eye, she sees a crisp suit exit the driver's seat of the limo. She stumbles in the gutter, the image of the Gentleman swarming her nerves.

She swings through the front door, discovering the one time of day when _The Talon_ earns its keep. The customers, packed like cattle, don't like to give way to Audrey's shaking frame.

Audrey's eyes dart through the crowd, hoping to find the comforting face of Martha. The understanding the two now share feels safe, and she's certain that Martha will help her escape.

Pushing through the crowd, Audrey loses her way and gets turned around, unwittingly heading back towards the door. Clark pulls the door open, holding it for Chloe.

Audrey tries to disappear into the crowd, but the caffeine crowd is too jittery to allow someone to push them around, they push back.

Just over a tray of latte' passing in front of her, Audrey gets a quick glimpse of a starched black suit, sending her in yet another direction.

Martha carries empty pie tins out of the kitchen and immediately sees Audrey, recognizing instantly the panic on her face.

"Audrey!" Martha calls out, hoping to envelop the poor girl in a blanket of motherly protection.

Audrey hears her savior, turning to the sound, only to find herself pushed by the crowd full force into the glimpse of wool gabardine she saw slip by.

"Audrey?" a cool voice breathes warmly. "Audrey Peyton?" Lex says, steadying her on her feet with his hands on her small shoulders.

A cloud of emotions fill her world, swirling through her head like a tornado, obliterating every rational thought that once resided peacefully there. The time it takes for her to lift her head to see him is but a second, but feels like a lifetime passes.

Her eyes meet with his, hoping they can say all that her lips cannot. Her heart pounds in her chest, feeling as though it's finally able to beat again, her innermost being only alive when near him.

"I've been looking forward to meeting you," Lex says, his Luthor charm firing on all cylinders.

She cannot speak. She cannot move. Her heart that just learned to beat again, suddenly is shattered into bits. The tornado twisting in her head consumes her, rain clouds obscuring her view of the world, making everything go black, sending her crashing to the floor like a bolt of lightning.


	9. Chapter 9

Clark stands cornered by the sink of his own kitchen, pinned by a pacing Chloe who is obviously upset.

"I can't believe you've known all along where she was and you didn't tell me," Chloe says, blinking hurt eyes at him.

"She didn't want to be found, Chloe," Clarks says. "I don't think she wanted to be interviewed, either," he adds, regretting it and meaning it at the same time.

"And what, you just assume that I am just out to publish people's hidden secrets? Did you think I couldn't genuinely be concerned about her?" Chloe says, the pitch of her voice bordering shrill.

Clark stands silent, feeling as though doing the right thing for Audrey meant doing the wrong thing to his friend.

Luckily for Clark the uncomfortable silence is broken by his father coming through the kitchen door, the screen behind him catching the cold breeze and slams shut.

"Well, I think I was finally able to convince Lex to go home for the night," Jonathan says, dragging himself towards a chair.

Instantly he can sense the tension between Chloe and Clark. He passes Clark a sympathetic look, knowing himself the wrath of a passionate woman.

"Is your mother in with Audrey?" Jonathan asks, figuring since the cat is out of the bag about their company, he can speak freely.

"Yeah, I think she's feeling a little better now," Clark says,

keeping his eyes on Chloe.

She walks over to the door, pausing with her hand on the handle, fueled by the steam coming out of her ears.

"The truth isn't something to hide, Clark," Chloe says, the pain she feels causing her voice to tremble. "But, I guess I'm just not the kind of friend you can trust with it," she adds, making her point as she walks out the door.

**x X x X x**

Audrey is sitting up in bed, clutching the warm tea Martha brought in to her. In typical motherly fashion, Martha adjusts the down pillows behind Audrey's back before taking a seat on the corner of the bed.

"You gave everyone a pretty good scare when you fainted," Martha says, her maternal instincts currently in overdrive. "Are you sure you're feeling alright?"

Audrey blushes, and looks down. "I'm sorry if I frightened everyone," she says, taking a sip, embarrassed that once again her vulnerability has landed her in a position to be cared for by the Kents.

"Oh, sweetie, sometimes we all want to run away from Chloe," Martha says with a grin.

Audrey manages a smile that quickly fades away from her pale face.

"But she really does mean well," Martha adds, understanding Chloe's natural curiosity.

Audrey nods, well aware how cryptic every single action she has done since coming to Smallville has seemed. It's been practically unbearable living every day with the knowledge herself, she can only imagine how odd it seems to those on the outside.

Martha, hoping Audrey feels well enough to talk about what happened, decides to open the door. "I really don't understand why Lex would act that way," Martha says, still a little confused by his distant reaction to seeing Audrey.

"I'm sure he really was happy to see you again," Martha adds, hoping to ease Audrey's mind.

"He had every right to act that way," Audrey says quietly, placing the tea cup on the tatted doily resting upon the night stand.

Martha understands that the Luthor's relationships are very

different from those she's accustomed to. But something in her heart refuses to believe that Lex could be so cold to someone he had obviously once loved so deeply.

"I'm sure you already know this, but men can be complicated when it comes to matters of their heart," Martha begins. "They're not always able to-"

Audrey stops Martha by shaking her head.

"I wish it was that," she breathes, letting her long lashed lids cover her water filled eyes.

Wringing her hands, she swallows hard against her emotion, hoping to compose herself enough to speak that which she feels may kill her.

Unable to bring her eyes to meet Martha's when she delivers what, to her is the fatal blow, Audrey rips off the proverbial band-aid and expels the truth: "He doesn't know me."

Martha, unable to understand the words just revealed to her, only can raise a quizzical brow, hoping to not jump to the conclusion that Audrey has up until this point been lying about everything. Pushing away that awful thought that slipped into her mind, Martha tenderly takes Audrey's hand, believing she's just upset, and assuming the worst

Twisting the dagger embedded in her heart, Audrey lets her lips speak again, every syllable seeming to steal another piece of her soul. "The terrace disappeared..." she says trailing off, the very confession making it all the more real to her.

Martha, trying desperately to decipher the emotional puzzle Audrey is presenting to her, doesn't know quite how to react.

Feeling as though her lungs are unable to push air past the lump building in her throat, Audrey can only fight enough to let the word "erased," find it's way out of her body.

Martha's hand goes to her mouth, the final piece of the puzzle revealing the tragic picture Audrey's misfortune has painted. She could never purge the memory of what Lionel had done to his son, robbing him of his own thoughts and memories. But, until this very moment she did not truly realize all that was stolen from Lex. Looking into the heart broken eyes of she who was destined to always be his beloved, Martha can see the tiny flicker of hope that once resided within the green irises now drowned by pools of despair.

"Every moment we shared. Every time we touched. Every time we said 'I love you' has been erased from his memory. The procedure his father ordered took me away from him forever," Audrey says, tasting every sorrow. "Took him away from me," she clarifies, embracing her own loss.

Martha, familiar with the heart break of losing a dream come true, lets go of the tears welled up in her eyes, letting them trail down her cheeks and fall softly onto the bedspread.


	10. Chapter 10

The room's a little brighter now, the early morning sun having dried both women's tears, allowing them to continue sharing secrets as women tend to do.

Despite the desperateness surrounding her new friend, Martha seems to blossom in the company of another female; not that she does not love her husband and son, and the dimensions they add to her life, but there's just something about the bond between women.

"When I found out what Lionel had done to his parents I didn't believe it. I just couldn't imagine that someone like him, someone who has everything could be capable of something so horrible," Audrey says, rubbing the chenille bedspread in between her fingers.

"I can't imagine what that must've been like for Lex," Martha says, shaking her head.

"He wanted him to pay," Audrey says pausing, knowing her next words will reveal that which she loved and hated the most in Lex.

"If he sets his mind to something, nothing, no one, can stand in his way."

These words strike a chord in Martha's heart. Loving Jonathan also means accepting his tenacious pursuits. It too, is his stubbornness that Martha loves and loathes in her husband. The irony that Lex Luthor and Jonathan Kent are so alike brings a smile to her face.

Martha's bond to Audrey is not that of a mother and child, but of two women walking a similar path.

"When Lex learned about Clark it answered so many questions for him," she says, pausing, looking down at the bed. "Unfortunately, I knew it raised another thousand that he would have to have the answers to."

Martha straightens her back, hoping to alleviate the tension Audrey's words bring to her. Since the very first day she took her son into her arms she had feared all the questions people would ask about him, wishing more than anything she had the power to protect him.

Audrey looks back up at Martha, able to read the concern on her face.

"I feared then how far Lex would go to find those answers," she says, quietly. "I guess fate has a funny way of stopping things that aren't meant to be."

Martha understands. Perhaps it was for the best that Lex could not recall the events that revealed Clark's secret to him. However, she could not allow herself to breathe a sigh of relief, knowing full well that exclusion from his psyche also meant the removal of Audrey from his life.

**x X x X x **

After just seeing his wife to bed after her long night consoling Audrey, Jonathan is getting an uncharacteristically slow start, having had to prepare his own breakfast, a feat proving more difficult than he anticipated.

Clark, upset about his falling out with Chloe, finds it difficult to concentrate on his bacon and eggs. His distance actually spares him considering Jonathan's callused hands aren't quite as skilled in the kitchen as his wife's.

"Clark, son, you need to get a move on," Jonathan says, his words startling Clark out of his thoughts. It never ceases to amaze him that although his teenage son possesses the power to out run a freight train, he is very much normal in his adolescent laziness on getting himself in gear.

Clark picks up the blackened bacon, looking at it curiously before bravely taking a bite. The bitterness of the charcoal comes in a close second to the bad taste in his mouth looming from his falling out with his friend.

Jonathan finishes off his cup of black coffee, resting against the rugged pine cupboard, his lack of desire to indulge in a second portion providing him a brief moment in which he can rest.

The silence between the two men is deafening. Jonathan, well aware that his son is upset, doesn't have a clue what to say.

The absence of Martha is not only felt in the food, but also in the subtle way she's able to convince the men in her life to open up to each other.

A tiny rap on the door spares them both the awkward meal and silence.

Chloe sees Clark sitting at the kitchen table through the screen, so she proceeds to let herself in. Her eyes immediately lock with Clark's, desperate to jump right into that which she came to say. Noticing Mr. Kent standing there, she hesitates, offering him a polite glance, her innocent eyes urging him for a moment alone with Clark. Luckily, he is perceptive, and terribly behind in his work.

Jonathan cocks his head, a sly smile tickling his lips.

"You two keep it down," he says, giving Clark a sympathetic pat on his shoulder as he walks out the door.

Chloe stands quietly, picking her moment. She spots the shriveled pieces of coal piled on Clark's plate; this is her in.

"Interesting breakfast," she says, taking a seat next to him, examining what was at one time bacon heaped before him.

Hearing her jovial attempt to make-up, Clark's fears subside. He smiles, sliding the plate away from him. "My mom was up late, so my dad had to cook breakfast."

Chloe sets her arms in front of her, resting her forearms against the table. With her fingers laced, her thumbs chase each other, helping to alleviate some of the nervousness she's feeling. Keeping her eyes on the plate, she takes in a deep breath as though about to plunge into very deep water. "Clark, I need to tell you something."

"What is it Chloe?" he asks, sensing her nervousness.

"There's something I've been keeping from you, Clark," she says, unable to look at him, all too aware of her hypocrisy.

Clark's leans down to look at her, seeing that rare vulnerability Chloe seldom lets slip.

"I've known something about Audrey and Lex that I didn't tell you," she begins, her eyes checking his, almost anticipating wrath.

He simply listens, his eyes offering nothing but compassion, easing her on. How can he judge her for keeping this secret?

"Clark, they had a relationship," Chloe says, dropping the bomb.

"How do you know that?" Clark asks, continually in awe of Chloe's ability to get to the bottom of things.

"One of my sources at _The Planet_ was at the gala where they met," Chloe says, following quickly with the lead. "Clark, Audrey was the last one on the visitor log at Belle Reeve the day of Lex's procedure."

Clark's eyes widen, Chloe's discovery sending his mind off on a tangent. He knew all too well that Lex entered Belle Reeve knowing all about his abilities, having seen them first hand. What Chloe was saying could mean that Audrey knows about his powers as well.

"We both know why Lionel felt the need to hit rewind on Lex's brain," Chloe says, tasting her disdain for the elder Luthor. "I just can't help but think that Audrey knows the truth about him, too," she adds, biting her lip nervously.

As his mind races along, imagining the worst case scenarios of Audrey knowing his secret, Chloe continues on with what could be her front page story.

"Clark, every memory Lex has of Audrey is gone."

Suddenly Clark realizes why Audrey had come to him. She held within her the knowledge that Lionel Luthor would kill for. His actions aiming to systematically dismantle her life, bit by little bit breaking her, forcing her to run to the only arms that she knows can protect her.

"Clark," Chloe whispers, realizing she's talking a little too openly about someone who just might be in earshot. "Where is Audrey?"

"She went to see Lex," Clark says, beginning to worry what secrets Audrey may reveal about him.

"I really don't think they should see each other," Chloe says, a sense of urgency residing in her tone.

"Why?" he asks, not understanding why Chloe would all the sudden seem so desperate.

"Lex's condition isn't exactly permanent," Chloe says, her eyes wide with worry.

"What do you mean, Chloe?" he asks, hoping this is just another logic leap of hers.

"I did some research today and found out that the procedure Lex had really only hides past events, not completely erases them," Chloe says, the look on her face telling Clark this is real.

"It generates walls, hiding select memories in the subconscious," she continues, explaining. "Something as simple as a smell, a place, or even a sound can trigger a memory."

"Clark," she says, pausing, "Just being around Audrey could cause everything to come flooding back."

These words strike fear into Clark's heart. If there was one positive element of the torture Lionel inflicted upon Lex, it was that the knowledge Lex had discovered about Clark's secret had been buried. As much as Lex regaining his memory could hurt Lionel, it could also hurt Clark. To protect Lex from his father, Chloe and Clark would have to find a way to keep him away from Audrey.

Sadly though, in doing this it means dividing Lex from someone that truly is capable of making him happy. Perhaps the one glimmer of light that had ever shown into his dark life.

"If Lex were able to recall the truth about his grandparent's death there's really no telling how far Lionel would go next time to protect the secret," Chloe says, fearful for Lex, and herself considering the knowledge she has regarding the subject.

Clark knows what Chloe said is right. Lionel had done unspeakable things to his son, and was sure to take an even more permanent step should the need arise.

**x X x X x **

Lex has been up since before dawn, hoping to unravel the mystery of Ms. Peyton in his head. Lost in his laptop, he compares countless documents hoping to find the primer. One by one he compares Audrey's property records to his father's real estate acquisitions, highlighting what in no way are simply coincidental similarities.

He instinctively closes the computer as he hears a soft knock, on the opening door.

"I asked not to be disturbed," Lex says sharply, annoyed by the distraction.

"I'm sorry Mr. Luthor, I'll come back," Audrey says, embarrassed for her unannounced visit. She turns to leave the room, her head down, unable to look at him.

Lex is out of his chair, standing beside her before she can even reach the knob. Placing his hand on her shoulder he urges her to stay. "Please, call me Lex," he soothes.

Lex. The name she had so often said in the company of love, in intense moments of passion and in candid moments of friendship, now caused her pain to utter. If she was consigned to be Ms. Peyton in his world, he would have to stay Mr. Luthor in hers.

Turning to face him, she is instantly greeted by his outstretched hand. "We didn't get to formally meet last night," he begins, his eyes overflowing with desire to meet her. "I hope you are feeling better," he adds.

Audrey shakes his hand, the reunion of their flesh fueling the roller coaster of emotions she has ridden since the day his mind was closed to her. The warmth of his skin igniting the flame of desire within her, yet the nagging reality of what had come to pass caused his flesh to sting her; A bitter reminder of all that she had lost.

Closing her eyes she takes a deep breath, hoping she can disguise her feelings towards him, and say what she came to say.

"Are you okay?" Lex asks, her inner struggle evident on her face.

Pulling herself together, she smiles, answering "I'm fine. Thank you."

"Please have a seat," Lex says, his hand showing her towards the couch.

"Can I get you a drink?"

"Juice," she says quietly, sitting down.

Her fingers graze across the leather couch, it's softness welcoming her to a part of his world she had never seen. Her eyes move about the room, taking in every ounce of her surroundings; everything that surrounds him. Even the air she breathes in tastes like him. The beautiful scent of his cologne, and the crackling fire tickles her nose, making her wish so badly all her senses could forever be fueled by the essence of Lex.

Among the dozens of artifacts and paintings, Audrey cannot miss the one created by her own hands. The small piece would forever be recognized by her heart, and she couldn't help but notice that since it's arrival to the mansion it had been given the royal treatment, now protected beneath an ornate gold frame.

"I'm sorry we didn't get a chance to formally meet last night," Lex says, setting down a glass in front of her, taking a seat in the arm chair, his eyes curiously searching hers.

"We've met before," she says, breathing out the words that could reveal so much. Driven by her heart, unable to stop herself, she continues, "at a gala in Metropolis, the opening of my gallery, actually."

Igniting his charm with a devilish gaze, he smiles, confidently confirming "I'm sure I couldn't forget meeting someone like you."

Her hands grip into the creamy leather beneath her, praying she'll be able to continue enduring what feels like the cruelest form of torture. If she couldn't hear her heart pounding so hard within her chest, she'd be sure it had stopped beating altogether.

Finding within her the last flicker of spark she has left in her being, she lets a knowing expression creep across her face. "Well, I am pretty easy to forget."

"I highly doubt that," he says, the words seductively rolling off of his lips, as he leans in towards her.

"The reason I'm here Mr. Luthor," she begins, using a stronger tone, breaking their eye contact as she straightens her back, hoping to defend against his advances. "I was hoping the painting I sent reached you safely."

"Yes," he confirms, rising to retrieve the painting from his desk. "It's an extraordinary piece, I'm honored to have it in my collection," he says, his words of praise having the opposite affect on her.

She had painted the piece the first night they shared together. Her freedom of expression unhindered, able to flow freely, inspired by the moments before and after she gave herself to him. In the quiet hours before dawn she created it, caressing the canvas with colors that seemed more brilliant thanks to the new palette his love provided her. Watching him sleep, she completed it, anxious to give him another piece

of her.

He fell almost as deeply in love with the painting as he did for her, insisting it be hung in her gallery near the terrace where they first met, wanting every time he saw it to be able to see just where it all began.

In mailing it to him, she sent him her heart, hoping he would remember.

Lex, brings the painting over towards her, setting it down on the coffee table before them. Sitting on the couch beside her, he hopes to get to the bottom of the connection between Audrey and his father. "Is there any particular reason why you sent me the painting instead of displaying it in your gallery?"

"It did hang in my gallery once upon a time-," Audrey says, stopping herself, not wanting her romantic choice of words to reveal too much. She takes another sip, the taste of the juice equaling the sweet and sour memories plaguing her. Swallowing hard, she hopes to keep down her emotion, gently reminding him, "You seemed to admire it the night you saw it in Metropolis."

Unsure if she is toying with him, or if he had met her one night in the city and failed to recall, he decides to make a point to remember her this time.

Leaning in towards her, he places his hand on her knee, his eyes sparkling as he looks into hers. "I hope you'll give me the opportunity to repay you for such an extraordinary gift."

The look in his eyes as he casually touches her skin drives a knife into her heart. Although she longs to still be object of his affection, the distance in his touch, the lack of true feelings behind his stare, can only serve as a reminder that she is now a perfect stranger to him.

Rising up from her seat, she intentionally removes herself from his grasp, having seen first hand that no amount of wishing could make time reverse for them. The damage was done, and the most she can hope for is that the time capsule of their stolen moments be cared for by his hands.

"Knowing you believe it to be extraordinary is payment enough," she says, handing him back his glass.

Lex's advances toward her could not be welcomed or returned. For as much as she wished they could start all over again, she knows lightning seldom strikes the same place twice.

She would rather live forever with the memory that she had been the exception in his long list of women, than have him back, unable to recall the intimacy they once shared. The lack of connection in his eyes when he looks at her now proves that now she is only a woman he knows as a benevolent artist from Metropolis. A woman perhaps he would play with and tease, but she could not hang onto the hope that he could lower his guard again to a world of happiness with someone like her.

"Audrey," Lex says, his tone almost pleading. "Does your gallery have a terrace?" he asks, unsure why those words just escaped his lips. True, he had just visited the loft that once served as Audrey's gallery, saw with his own eyes the terrace overlooking the city, yet for some reason he just had to ask her that question.

"Not anymore," she says, turning away quickly before he sees the tears fall from her eyes.


	11. Chapter 11

The amber glow of the setting sun streams through the ornate glass windows, offering a final bit of warmth to the day before the night wind blows in yet another bitter chill.

Lionel breezes through the double doors of Lex's private study, uncharacteristically dressed in a deep red sweater instead of his sweeping long coat.

"Even God took one day off, Son" Lionel bellows, making a line for the scotch. "Perhaps you could emulate Him."

"It's Saturday," Lex says, letting his eyes roll up to look at his father.

Lionel laughs heatedly, amused by his son's reverence to the Sabbath.

Lex slides the lid of his laptop down, almost annoyed at the sight of his father. "Don't tell me, Dad, you've dropped by to watch the Saturday movie on ABC?"

"I haven't the faintest idea what that is, but I do worry that the rift between us has widened into a trough," Lionel speaks into this glass of scotch.

"I thought you wanted it to be a trough, then you could pitch me in it."

"Why do you persist on inventing ways to cut me, son? I have simply noticed that it has been quite some time since we picked up our swords and sparred."

Lex can't help but smile. He knows that although fencing is never involved, he and his father spar regularly. Or, perhaps Lionel's also aware of this fact, and the metaphor isn't as sharp as Lex originally thought? Either way, Lex is not in the mood.

"Well, perhaps we'd have had more tender moments if every event we shared didn't involve some type of combat," Lex says, trying hard to not allow his eyes to roll back in his head.

"You would have been happy attending the opera? Or an art exhibit, perhaps?" Lionel asks slyly.

Lex knows exactly where Lionel is going with this, his last sentence barely slipping from between his lips when his body slides across the room to Audrey's painting.

"I'm intrigued by this lonely little piece," Lionel says checking for Lex's reaction. "I mean, it's not exactly extraordinary, but I find I can't take my eyes off of it. Wherever did you get it?"

Lex is tired, and not in the mood for this particular sparring match. "Dad, I suspect you know already know the answer to that question, but I'll answer it anyway. It was a gift from the artist herself."

Lionel purses his lips, hoping Lex will expand on his answer. If Lionel is forced to continue his interrogation, he may tip his hand. However, if Lex will tire of the silence, Lionel can play his ace later in the game.

"She's quite a remarkable woman," Lex finally says, taking Lionel's bait.

"Is she?"

"Besides being talented, she's attractive and she makes a mean Gespacchio," Lex practically shivers at the thought. He, in fact, doesn't know why he said that.

Lionel turns to this, the questions ringing through his head evident by his raised brow. Lex usually has a very good poker face, but the shock and amazement over his last words is evidently a puzzle to the younger Luthor.

"Gespacchio?" Lionel asks.

"I don't know why I thought of that. But, when I thought of her right now, I tasted gespacchio."

Lionel's lip curls. "That's odd, son."

Whatever Lionel was after, Lex fears he may have just given him. What's more perplexing, is that Lex doesn't know what he just gave.

"I'm sorry, son, I'll have to take a rain check on that, what did you call it? The ABC movie?" Lionel doesn't wait for the answer, he leaves the room abruptly.

**x X x X x**

Lex lays upon his silken sheets, his heavy eyes searching the ceiling, counting proverbial sheep as his mind refuses to sleep.

Alone in his bed, he feels the presence of another. All around him blooms the delicate scent of lavender, yet after thoroughly examining his entire room for its source he can only conclude that it's only his imagination.

Tormented by thoughts he does not understand, he feels as though he's in the company of a ghost, one that causes him to quickly turn his head, swearing for a moment he felt a mass of beautifully scented hair brush across his bare chest, teasing and comforting him in the same instant.

Trying to shake the odd chills present on his flesh, Lex rises to gaze out the window, hoping to clear his mind of the image he cannot escape. Yet, his view from high atop the mansion cannot obscure the picture burned in his mind. The painting, although resting on the desk two flights of stairs below, seems to be the source of the mystery in his mind, the woman who crafted it enrapturing his once unpleasant dreams, making him long to escape to a place where he can experience more.


	12. Chapter 12

The crackling sizzles springing from the cast iron skillet is a welcomed sound in the Kent kitchen. The aromatic celebration dancing through the air tickles the noses of everyone in the house, announcing in the best way that breakfast this morning is being made by the master.

Martha's new relationship with Audrey had divided her attention from her family and work around the house. For the last several days she felt it necessary to comfort Audrey, and try to get to the bottom of the mystery surrounding her. However, the time they spent together revealed a piece of herself she didn't realize was missing. It was refreshing to be able to discuss her feelings about Clark and Jonathan with another woman freely. She felt like a dormant part of her was finally blossoming, and it felt good. It felt good to be needed by Audrey, but this morning it feels wonderful to be needed by the men in her life.

As she buzzes around the kitchen, buttering the toast, topping off the stack of pancakes with warm maple syrup, setting the table for breakfast, she wears one of the largest smiles to ever grace her pretty face.

"Clark! Jonathan!" she shouts, dusting the flour from the pancakes onto her apron. "Breakfast is ready!"

Audrey comes into the kitchen carrying a jar of preserves, looking as sunny as the morning. She can't help but feel a little better, having faced her fear, allowing herself to see Lex again, and miraculously was able to do it without shedding a tear, well none he could see. Maybe, just maybe, her heart would be able to be able to find a way to beat without him.

She would always carry with her the memories of what she had in Metropolis; what she had with Lex, but she knows looking back is no way to move forward. She would have to begin picking up the pieces of her shattered dreams, and build a new life; it's what she would have to do to keep herself from going insane.

"Everything smells so wonderful," Audrey says, carrying the plate of biscuits over to the table.

Jonathan comes into the kitchen, following the plate with his eyes, able to snatch a biscuit and steal a bite without Audrey noticing.

"Good morning ladies," he says, chewing quickly as he takes his seat at the head of the table.

Martha passes him a sly smile, noticing the crumbs falling down the front of his flannel.

Audrey brings him over a cup of coffee, relishing the simplicity of a laid back family breakfast, as it reflects wonderfully on her.

"You look nice this morning," Jonathan says, noticing the color in Audrey's cheeks.

"Thank you," she says, blushing, happy to notice this is the first time Jonathan has really let his guard down around her. How nice it feels to finally feel welcomed by the man of the house.

Clark barely clears the doorway, as he enters the kitchen holding an enormous bouquet of perfect white roses, one so large it obscures his face.

"Oh, Clark! Where did those come from?" Martha asks, setting down the plate so she can admire the arrangement.

"Someone just brought them to the door," he says, placing them down, taking up all the space on the counter.

Fearful her nervous shaking will let the coffee cup slip out of her hand, Audrey quickly sets it down, not wanting to announce her fear with the loud crash of glass shattering against the wooden floor. She instantly knows the flowers are for her, and she knows exactly who they are from. White roses are her favorite, and Lex always had a way of finding her the most beautiful ones to ever bloom.

Martha's curiosity leads her to the card nestled down within the blooms. With sparkling eyes she announces "Audrey honey, they're for you."

Martha hands Audrey the tiny envelope, motioning with her eyes for Clark and Jonathan to give her some privacy.

Audrey takes the card and slowly moves towards the doorway to read it in the warm sunbeam that is streaming through the window.

Sliding her pink polished nail under the fold, she carefully opens the envelope, sliding out the parchment paper embossed with interlocking double L's. Her eyes quickly scan the text, taking in the Chinese proverb written inside:

'_Tell me and I'll forget. Show me and I may remember. Involve me and I'll understand.'_

She closes the card, the color in her face draining away.

**x X x X x**

As much as Jonathan tries to live by the example set down by God, this Sunday there was far too much work to be done to rest. Unfortunately he had already lost almost an hour of precious daylight searching for the tractor keys that had somehow slipped out of his pocket while he was working in the barn.

Thank goodness for Clark, especially on days like today. His X-Ray vision seemed tailor made to help find such needles in a barn full of haystacks.

"Clark, son, do you mind looking around for my keys" Jonathan asks, already exhausted, the strain of a seven day work week evident on his face.

"But Dad," Clarks says, hoping his father can read his eyes.

Jonathan had laid down the law. Clark was not to use any of his abilities near Audrey, and she was only a few yards away, pacing in the garden lost in her thoughts.

Jonathan looks around, noting the coast is clear. He nods Clark on, figuring his X-Ray vision isn't something she could really see him use anyway.

Clark focuses his eyes, scanning around the barn, searching for the keys. His father had done a good job misplacing them. This wasn't going to be an easy fix, even for Clark.

Clark locks his eyes, concentrating on taking in every square inch of the barn. He doesn't even break despite the tapping on his shoulder.

"Clark, I found them," his father says, relieved.

Clark whirls around and sees a skeleton waving a pair of keys.

Clark almost allows his eyes to relax, but something beyond Jonathan focuses his attention: Audrey walking across the yard back towards the house. However, that's not what's caught his attention. It's the movement, seemingly from inside of her that causes his eyes to fixate on her. If it wasn't for the experience he had with his mother's sonogram, he might not have realized what it is he's looking at. But Clark knows exactly what he's seeing in Audrey: a tiny beating heart.

**x X x X x**

Audrey is nestled between the sheets, clinging to one of the white roses from the bouquet, hoping it might somehow bring her solace. She brings it to her nose, allowing it to tickle her nostrils. Closing her eyes she hopes to savor the moment, taking in the aroma with a deep breath, the scent reminding her of the warm long days she spent with Lex. As much as she tries to drift into the pleasant dreams of the past, her head remains clouded with one memory, one she has no desire to revisit, but one she cannot seem to escape.

_The smell of ammonia stings her nose as she walks through the clinical institution. The isolation she's feeling is radiated by the echoed clicks of her heels as she walks down the long quiet hallway. _

_Reaching the window of the visitation room, she stops, losing her breath by what she sees. Lex is crouched over the table, broken and alone. His designer suit has been replaced by sterile blue scrubs, his Italian loafers taken from him leaving his fee__t bare against the cold tile floor. Sadly he appears to be only a shell of the man she loves. _

_She enters the room, her heart breaking more with every step she takes towards him. The large orderlies standing guard make her feel as though she's visiting a prisoner, and not someone who is ill. Thankfully she's spared from seeing him in the caged __confinement his escape attempt earned him, for what she sees now is tearing her heart apart._

_As she stands ready to break into a thousand pieces, the largest man's watchful eyes guide her to a seat across from Lex, not allowing her to rush and embrace him as her heart so longs to do. _

_His sullen expression lessens as his eyes go to her, but it's agony for her to look into them. The dancing light seems to have gone out, leaving his green eyes cold and distant. Fighting against her pain she looks deep into them, willing out a shred o__f the real Lex, pleading with her stare for him to reach out to her._

_As though pulled out of a thick fog. Lex comes back to her, overpowering the effects of the sedatives to connect with the only person he knows will believe him. _

_He holds his hands out to her, starving for human contact, especially from her. The hands before her do not resemble the ones who had been raised to always clutch a silver spoon. They're cut to shreds, bruised and covered with dried blood. _

_Fearful of causing him further pain, she softly places her hands on top of his, gently consoling him with her fingers. He closes his eyes, the warmth of her touch able to penetrate the frigidness of the place that's beginning to consume him. _

_Longing for more he grasps her hands, disregarding the pain the use of them brings to him, clutching to her soft flesh as though a life line sent from heaven above._

_"I'm not crazy," Lex whispers, opening his eyes to reveal a confirmation more concrete than his words could provide._

_Always able to read his eyes, she instantly can see that he was put here only because he had gambled with his father and lost an important round. _

_"I know," she says, relieved to be able to believe it. _

_She had come there fearing that something had really caused him to slip, that somehow all of the tragedy and sadness in his life had caused his mind to escape to a place he might not be able to come back from. Knowing what she had just learned about t__heir future together, the fear that Lex belonged in the asylum was almost too much to bear. _

_It was a relief to see that although stripped of the things she recognized as Lex, the powerful confident demeanor, the charming smile, and elegant clothes, he still remained intact under the surface. He was broken and down, but not insane. She was co__nfident feeling that whatever happened from here on out they could handle it, for they had each other and that was enough. _

_If only her thinking so could will it to be. _

_"I have something for you," he says, reaching towards the seat beside him. He presents a rolled piece of paper which he handles like something sacred. She carefully takes it, beginning to unroll it only to be quickly stopped by the urgency in his eyes__. "You can't open it here," he says, watching the guards like a hawk. The level of secrecy unnerves her, fearing this paper contains something about his father's crime, something she does not want to be responsible for. _

_She sees the unpredictable flicker in his eyes, the only thing in him that she does not love. The change eerily makes him appear like his father, and it scares her that a look from Lex can give her chills. Hidden deep with in his pupils she can see a __darkness more black and turbulent than the roughest seas in the ocean, making her wonder if one day that look, that untrustworthy gaze would drown the safe shore on which she stands, the safe harbor of their love._

_She has seen this look before, not long ago when he learned about his grandparent's murder. It wasn't a look of sadness or grief, or even one someone might possess who is seeking justice. It was an evil sort of glow signaling clearly his incessant nee__d to win at all costs. Even when locked behind walls of an asylum he could not give up on his irrational pursuits, and Audrey couldn't help but fear how far his doggedness would take him. _

_Holding on tightly to his hand, she whispers "I love you," a thousand times over saying the same with her eyes, trying to make the blackness disappear. If only the desire in her heart could overpower the part of him that is driven by darkness. _

_x X x X x_

_The walk out of Belle Reve was a long one. The dizzying nausea she felt was making it nearly impossible to stomach the clinical stench any longer. Driven by the need to reach the clean air outside, she tries to move more quickly, but every step stabs __at her heart with the realization that she's leaving Lex behind in a place he does not belong. _

_Finally reaching outside she can no longer contain that which has been rising up within her. She runs to the receptacle near the door and vomits. The sickness of her condition combined with the stress of seeing Lex behind those walls proving too much __to endure, and the release only seems to trigger more. She crumbles to the ground bawling uncontrollably like a lost child, fearing what tomorrow may bring for her to face alone._

_Still sick to her stomach for more reasons than one, she forces herself off the ground, not feeling she can remain near the place that has revealed so much. Climbing into her car, she decides this is the moment to look at the paper Lex entrusted her w__ith. Slowly unrolling it, the page reveals a painting he created as part of his treatment: A surreal self portrait placing him in the midst of flames with the earth shattered to pieces at his side. The image startles her, oddly materializing her greatest f__ears for Lex's future. _

_Not emotionally stable enough to think about the repercussions the painting might be insinuating, she rolls it up, hoping to put it out of her mind until she feels well enough to deal with all of her concerns. As she's putting it in her glove compartm__ent she notices some handwriting on the back. Curious, she opens it back up and begins reading. _

'_My entire life the spectre of a man greater than me, one who would conquer the world, cast a shadow of doubt over any and all of my accomplishments. It was with no sense of irony that my father both pictured himself as that man, and named his son af__ter that man. This spectral shadow beleaguered my life, making it impossible for me to find a sense of purpose which I could call my own. In one day, one act, by a boy, wiped the sense of purpose my father intended for me away. He made it possible for me__ to forge my own destiny. I could not understand how Clark Kent freed me, until I discovered how he freed me that day. The reality of his talents, the scope of his power, cannot be surpassed by a mere mortal such as myself. Clark's herculean strength cou__pled with the speed of Hermes are attributes reserved for Gods. I've witnessed these powers, and the truth that is clear to me now, is that to aspire to conquer men like Alexander the Great, is a paltry task in the face of a true God. To be great, one must__ conquer a God."_

Relieved from the darkness of her memory, Audrey gets out of bed, placing the rose into the vase with the others. For a moment she stands before them, caressing the pure petals with her fingertips. Turning her back to them, she goes to her suitcase, reaching beneath the clothes, retrieving the rolled print she risked her life to protect. It is now neatly tied with a lavender ribbon, and she cradles the scroll in her gifted hands; the reason and purpose to which she has come to Smallville.


	13. Chapter 13

Chloe climbs the steps up to the loft, her heart always seeming to beat a little differently when between the wooden walls of the Kent barn, well, actually whenever she's around Clark.

She freezes for a moment, absorbing the vision before her; the large man gazing out the hay door, seemingly lost in his thoughts. Despite his size, and ability to handle most situations thrown his way, Chloe always feels she needs to be there for him, care for him like she believes only she can.

Clearing her throat, she snaps him out of his thoughts, the look on his face a bit surprised that it is the blonde friend of his darkening the doorway.

Always feeling the need to compare herself to the other, Chloe throws up her defenses, showing that quality of hers that seems it will always keep them apart. "Disappointed?" she asks, feeling the emotion herself.

His cheeks pinken, well aware that Chloe has the gift of reading his mind always. Indeed he was thinking of Lana, but not in the manner in which he did in earlier days, when things like Lex's future didn't lay in his hands. He was thinking about love, the kind it seemed Audrey and Lex shared. He knows the feeling of love, or thinks he does. Having seen a glimmer of the beautiful light of love shine between him and Lana, he cannot bring himself to obey the promise he made to Chloe, to keep Audrey and Lex apart, especially now that he knows their a child in their future.

Not wanting to hear all the logical reasons why Lex should never know about his past, Clark tenses, not looking forward to another confrontation with Chloe.

Knowing he must offer the bit of information he is privy to, but struggling with the fact that he has to divulge a secret Audrey obviously doesn't want revealed, he begins to pace around the loft, feeling like a hypocrite.

"What is it, Clark?" Chloe asks, knowing by his expression he is holding something back from her.

Clark understands the importance of keeping secrets, but something in his heart will not allow him to simply stand back silently and watch Lex be denied what could be the greatest thing to ever happen to him. He owes it to his friend to give him the opportunity of a future full of happiness, regardless of what it costs himself.

"Audrey's pregnant," he says, his eyes hanging on to Chloe's as she digests the words.

"What? How do you know?" she asks, trying to wrap her mind around the repercussions.

"I overheard her tell my mom," he lies, doing his normal bad job. Lucky for him Chloe is way too caught up analyzing the information that was just given to her to pay any attention to the holes in his story.

"This changes everything, Clark," Chloe informs him.

"How?"

"The romantic in me wants to get them together," Chloe says, for just the slightest moment raising Clark's hopes. "But, the realist in me knows that things have gotten that much worse."

Clark is again slow to catch up, he has to ask again, "How?"

"We both know that the one thing Lionel has always wanted is an heir. An heir worthy of his expectations," Chloe tells him, and then finishes the fearful thought that just entered Clark's mind, "Lex has never been that heir."

**X x X x X x**

Audrey leans over the sink peeling potatoes, the afternoon sun warming her cool complexion as she gazes out the window at the peaceful pasture. Without effort she removes the skins in one continuous spiral, illustrating her artistic flare in even the simplest tasks.

"Don't tell me the Kents have managed to domesticate you already, Ms. Peyton," a voice calls from the doorway, causing her to prematurely sever the perfectly coiled peel sending it spiraling down towards the sink.

Closing her eyes, praying the voice is only in her head, she tightly grips the peeler, feeling like a rabbit caught in a trap. Slowly she turns, revealing herself to the man from whom she has been running, the man who has finally managed to catch her.

"Mr. Luthor," she says, her soft voice shaking. Barely able to bring her eyes to his, she instinctively adjusts the apron tied around her midsection, clutching the peeler in her hand so tight her knuckles turn white.

He slinks towards her, picking up a peeled potato out of the sink. "I admit it has been some time since I've had the pleasure, but I don't believe I recall Gazpacchio containing potatoes," he says coyly, watching her out of the corner of his eye.

Gently tossing the potato into the air and catching it quickly, he makes her uneasy with his familiarity of her, his evil eyes taking pleasure in making it known.

Clinging to the fact that her feet stand on safe soil, she squares her shoulders, offering an indignant "I wouldn't know," before brushing against him as she crosses the room.

"That's odd, I heard you had quite the talent for it," he says with a sly smile, looking over his shoulder at her.

Audrey's heart pounds, hoping against hope Martha will return early from her trip to the store, or Jonathan and Clark might end their work day early and free her from the icy man who seems intent of chilling her.

How did he know when to strike? How could he have known at this moment the house would be empty, her safety net falling for a brief second, allowing him to penetrate the safe fortress in which she hides.

"I'm disappointed, Ms. Peyton. I had hoped you gleaned from our last conversation the limits in regards to your proximity of my son," he says circling her, the warmth of his breath on her neck sending a chill up her spine.

Backed up into the table, she clutches it, feeling she could snap the oak with the force of her grip. The frightening reality of facing this man feels too much to bare, his sheer presence striking fear into her heart.

Feeling defiance is her only hope against him, she summons the final shred of strength she has within her, straightening her back as she stands up to him, "I don't recall there being much conversation the last time we met."

"Indeed, I don't recall you putting up much of a fight, perhaps that's the quality Lex found most appealing about you. But, apparently your listening skills are equally lacking as well."

Fueled by his insult, she sharply asks, "Why do you care so much if Lex and I are together?"

His lips curl into a devilish grin, impressed, able to instantly recognize the flare in her that proves she's the closest match to the one Lex has so long searched for.

"I once knew a woman very much like you, Ms. Peyton," he begins, holding his hands behind his back leaning towards her as he speaks the words. "Delicate beauty and indomitable spirit make for an intoxicating combination," he says, brushing a wayward lock of her hair away from her cheek, his touch summoning in her a thousand shivers. "However, those fooled by such gifts often find themselves suffering fates similar to those entranced by the tragic beauty of Helen of Troy".

Fighting to stand despite the crushing pain in her chest and weakness in her knees, Audrey holds her head high, her eyes disguising her consternation to the best of their ability.

Lionel, although impressed by her ability to maintain composure, picks this moment to move in for the kill. Reaching into the breast pocket of his coat, he slides out a small folded print containing the image of Audrey's future, the future he wants to take for his own.

With his long fingers he unfolds the paper, arching his eyebrow as he concentrates his focus on the small black and white image.

"You know, of all the creations of yours I discovered in the loft, I do believe this one shows the most promise," he says, letting his words raise the hairs on her neck. "Intriguing little development, wouldn't you say?"

She cannot move. She cannot think. She cannot breathe, and his eyes ignite with power as he sees that he has finally broken her spirit.

"My son's psychotic break invoked behavior a man of his prominence cannot afford. Fueled by his hallucinations he formed liaisons detrimental to the future I have secured for him. Such bonds with inferiors caused him to view stories of fiction as though they were fact, but let me assure you Ms. Petyon, the fairy tale is over."

Taking the few steps to close the distance between them, he leans over, whispering in her ear, "perhaps I will read the child 'Romeo and Juliet' one day."

Audrey stands frozen, still gripping the peeler in her hand as she clings to the table, unable to let go for fear she will crumble to the ground.

"Is there something I can do for you, Lionel," Jonathan growls from across the kitchen. Audrey sobs a cry of relief at the sight of Jonathan standing with his fists planted firmly on each hip and his large son looming behind him.

"Jonathan, it's good to see you," Lionel snaps up.

"I wish I could say the same. I also wish I could say I invited you into my home, but I can't," Jonathan bellows.

Lionel leans in to Audrey, keeping his eyes firmly on Jonathan, saying, "I hope you enjoyed our conversation more this time, Ms. Peyton."

Jonathan steps forward snapping Lionel back up.

"Clark, it's always good to see you," Lionel sneers, turning briskly to sweep out of the room.

"Thank you, Jonathan," Audrey says, for the first time feeling that Jonathan, and not just Clark, is her protector.

"Anytime I get to throw Lionel Luthor out on his keester is fine by me," Jonathan tells her.

Softening his eyes, he puts his hand under her chin, affectionately shaking the nerves away, as he reassures her "everything will be okay."

**X x X x X x**

Lex breezes into the Talon, seemingly lost in his thoughts and the stack of documents he has in his hand. His uncharacteristic preoccupation hinders him from noticing the 'Wet Paint' sign on the counter.

"Lex!" Lana shouts, hoping to stop him from running directly into the newly painted counter. Unfortunately her warning is a moment too late, he has already brushed his coat right across it.

Lana cringes, covering her eyes with her hands, fearing the decision to freshen up the front of the counter while the Talon's open was a bad decision. Looking down at his ruined Dolce and Gabana coat Lex is obviously annoyed. He sets down the stack of papers on the counter, shaking his head, letting out a frustrated sigh of a laugh.

"I'm so sorry," Lana says, coming around the counter with a wet rag, not sure really how she's going to help, but wanting to try. She begins brushing off his jacket with the cloth, actually just rubbing the paint in deeper, making the stain worse.

Lex takes a step back, feeling something.

Lana, fearing his distance is evidence of how he feels about her decision to paint, takes the step towards him.

Diligent in her pursuit to make things right, and be forgiven, she rubs harder, desperately trying to work the stain out. Suddenly a pang of modesty strikes her, making her aware of how familiar her hands on Lex might be perceived. She pulls back, holding the rag in her hand, peering up at him with wide eyes.

Lex, too, is struck with a pang of familiarity, but it does not stem from the awkwardness of Lana's hands on him. He feels he's experienced this same scenario before; Paint on his coat, and the gentle brushes of someone desperate to remove it. The bewildering feel of deja vu is something he seems to be experiencing more frequently lately, and he has to know why.

Still reeling from the uncertainty of the moment, he finds himself rubbing his forefinger and thumb together, the sensation of wet paint sliding between his fingers sends a flood of emotions through his mind.

"Lex?" Lana says, trying to snap him out of the trance that is evident on his face. "Lex!" she says louder, grabbing his forearm. The touch of her hand grasps him out of the flashes of distant memories running through his mind, and back to present day.

"Are you okay?" she asks, frightened by his odd behavior.

"I'm fine," he says, "just fine."


	14. Chapter 14

The tranquil breeze blowing outside gently hushes the day away, welcoming the early stars of twilight to peek through the beautiful full trees on the Kent farm.

The peacefulness of the porch steps allow Audrey a quiet moment to reflect on her emotions regarding the inevitable path it seems she must take.

Finding joy in the simplicity of life in Smallville was not something she had expected. At the bottom of her rapidly fraying rope, she had come to be near Lex, feeling lost in a world without him. Yet the fear of standing alone against Lionel led her to seek refuge in the company of the only one who was strong enough to stand with her and escape unscathed. Yet, that pivotal piece of evidence that proclaimed Clark powerful enough to protect her, also confirmed everything she feared about Lex would undeniably come to fruition.

As the sad reality of her situation rolls through her mind, she plays with the scroll on her lap. Ironically, she who had tried so hard to avoid being used as a pawn in the epic struggle between father and son sits holding the piece that could forever change the game.

"Audrey, honey, do you need a sweater or something? It's getting awfully chilly out here," Martha asks, coming out of the screen door, disguising her genuine fear for Audrey's well-being as gentle mothering.

"I'm fine," Audrey says, wrapping her fingers around the rolled print, tucking it into the folds of her shirt. "Mrs. Kent, do you mind if I talk to you a moment?" Audrey asks, taking the step down the road in which she cannot go back.

The fact that Audrey did not use her first name instantly makes Martha fear would words might come next. In the past few days the two of them had formed a bond, and if Martha learned anything about her friend, is was that she was hiding much more than she would ever share.

However, Martha is grateful for that Audrey would choose to confide in her at all, knowing she too is guilty of hiding secrets.

"I've decided I have to leave Smallville," Audrey begins, the words proving even harder to speak then they are to think.

Martha sits quietly, reading Audrey's need to speak her piece without being interrupted.

"I came to Smallville because of Clark, I thought I would be safe here," she says, able to speak the heavy words matter of factly. She pauses, turning her face away from Martha, feeling the strain of her guilt.

Letting out a sigh, she comes clean. "I'm sorry Martha, that's not true. I came to Smallville because I was foolish enough to believe that somehow I would be able to erase the past. I needed to believe that I would be able to go to Lex and live happily ever after in his beautiful castle hidden away from the world," she says, longing apparent in her distant stare.

"I just never considered that the prince would have more of a moat guarding him than the one guarding the castle."

"Oh sweetie, most men come with walls built around them," Martha offers, trying to comfort her, but fearing that Audrey's dream can never come true.

Audrey looks up at Martha, smiling with appreciation for the sentiment. Sadly though she knows her situation is not one that can be fixed by a session of girl talk discussing men and their issues with commitment. She has to face reality, which means she has to share with Martha the reasons she had come, and the reasons she has no choice but to leave.

"Lionel's never going to leave me alone," Audrey says, her tone flat as she realizes how truly ensnared she is.

"Does he know about the baby?" Martha quietly asks, hoping Audrey can forgive her for being so forward.

Audrey's head whips around, surprised it seems that her secret wasn't as hidden as well as she thought.

"No one does," she lies, disbelieving herself that her secret had been found out.

"I'm sorry I didn't mean to pry. It's just, well, I just sensed it," Martha says.

"If tonight's going to be about secrets, than I feel I must share another one with you," Audrey trepidatiously says.

Martha swallows hard, fearing what's to come. But, instinct forces her to nod her head in agreement, and allows Audrey to proceed.

Audrey slowly pulls out the rolled up painting, presenting it to Martha with as much trepidation one would have in handing over their own child.

Within, it holds the written truth, the words whose presence represent everything she had so long prayed could not be true. Hidden within the man she loves is a force stronger than she can fight against, a blackness darker than her mind could conjure up in the midst of her worst nightmare. The man she loves more than life itself has brewing within him the desire to rid the world of one, the only one, who could save it from pain and destruction.

This insatiable drive to conquer was a seed planted by his father before he was even old enough to comprehend the difference between right and wrong. Despite the claims of her childhood teachings that right would always win out over wrong, Audrey knows with every fiber of her being that the power the Luthors' possessed could crush anyone who they set out to destroy.

She held onto the faith of the power within Clark. The power she was not fully able to comprehend, but trusting that there were reasons why she could not. She clings to the belief that the purity of heart that she witnessed by being in his presence was but a sliver of the light of goodness that flows within him. She has no choice but to believe that the unparalleled source of power within Clark, the light of one who was meant to shine brighter than any, could somehow be able to bring Lex out of the darkness that would one day inevitably consume him.

"I want you to have this," Audrey begins, keeping her eyes on the rolled paper as Martha slides it out of her grasp. "Letting it go is one of the hardest things I've ever had to do."

Martha continues to assume the worst, bracing herself for the contents of the paper Audrey is entrusting her with. Seeing the assurance that she is deserving of this gift in Audrey's heavy eyes, Martha slowly unrolls it, revealing the odd self portrait created in the asylum.

Martha, confused, searches Audrey's face for an answer. Audrey seems to have been hit with a wall of emotions, her eyes immediately filling with water, her trembling hand moving up to cover her mouth.

"Did you paint this?" Martha quietly asks, delicately trying to understand the importance of the piece.

Audrey shakes her head, wiping away the few tears that were shook free with the motion. Inhaling deeply, she squares her shoulders, taking back control of the situation. "No, Lex did in Belle Reve," she says, swallowing against the large lump in her throat.

Martha looks into the painting, her expression illustrating that the image seems to tap into her fears about Lex as well. "I'm not sure I understand," she begins, quickly answered by Audrey's hands flipping the paper over, revealing the handwritten text.

As Martha begins reading, her concern seems to deepen with every word her eyes pass over. It pains her to think that anyone could see Clark's powers as useful for anything but greatness. These written words depicting him as a force to be destroyed feels like a dagger through her heart. Yet, she can't help but continue to hold onto her belief that Lex is not the monster his father had raised him to be.

Just the same as how she had always wondered what might've happened to Clark had he been found by someone devious that day in the field, she often wondered what kind of man Lex would be had his mother never passed away. So many times she had longed to guide Lex as she did Clark. She often found herself feeling sorry for Lex, seeing him as a lonely boy who lived a life that seemed doomed. She understood that despite the riches, fame and power that were his birthright, he was lacking those elements which she knew were most valuable in a person. She wished she had the means to nurture him, teach him, and above all. love him. The sad truth that his mother's untimely death had denied him the wonderful benefits and special love only a mother can provide.

"Honey, he was very sick when he wrote this," Martha says, always able to see a silver lining in any cloud.

Audrey nods, unable to bring her eyes to meet Martha's. She knows down in her heart that Lex's feelings towards Clark's powers were not based on mental illness. He had been drugged, and tricked into believing he was insane, but the truth was that he wasn't so far gone to not understand his thoughts.

No, what he had written was truly how he felt. As an educated and sane man he penned those words, reasoning his own venomous wrath towards the justice Clark stood for as a greater justice towards mankind. She knows had his memories not been taken from him, he would have already begun his attacks against Clark, and anyone who tried to stop him.

The hardest part of this realization for Audrey is how she knew he would be able to justify his motivations. His clouded vision of himself when it came to matters of power is indeed one of the traits he inherited from his father that she despises the most.

"I still want you to take this. I want you to have it, for Clark," Audrey says.

Martha rolls up the painting, giving in to her friend's wish. She's unsure of what Audrey is feeling, but she knows that if what Audrey and Lex had was anything like what Martha and Jonathan share, than Audrey knows best. This thought terrifies Martha, not just for Clark, but for Audrey.

Martha senses that Audrey is exhausted. She summons up her best mommy smile, kisses her on the forehead and leaves.

**X x X x X x**

Audrey's bare feet strike softly against the cold floor, the large t-shirt she wears almost long enough to cover her knees as she holds her arms close to her chest against the chill blowing through the quiet farmhouse. Her lack of layers fail to hide the small bump in her abdomen, now protruding enough to cast a shadow in her silhouette as she quietly creeps down the stairs.

Reaching the bottom of the steps, the sound of Clark's heavy breaths as he readjusts himself into the couch cushions cause her to freeze, alarmed for a moment that he has heard her descent. Holding her breath, she leans to see if she has been caught, relieved to see he has never left his slumber.

Moving into the kitchen, she glides her fingers across the counter, her sad eyes looking into the picture of the happy family, making her feel lost, alone and forgotten in this life that is no longer her own.

Taking out the little pad of paper near the phone, Audrey swallows hard, disbelieving she is going to write this letter on stationary adorned with apples and geese. Actually, she cannot believe she is going to write this letter at all.

Sliding out a pen from the cup, she sits at the table, scared where exactly to begin, feeling she must say so much, but knowing her heart cannot find the words.

Her small hand begins composing the letter, her pretty script telling so much about the girl putting the words on the page, her care and devotion evident in all things, even the simple three letters that form his name.

_Lex_, she writes on the paper, hesitating with the thoughts that come to mind when she utters his name, Her tongue savoring the word that rolls so freely off of it, she cannot contain her tears, her mind picturing him holding this letter and never understanding why.

_I'm sorry there are so many questions. I'm sorry I can't give you the answers. But most of all, Lex, I am sorry_.

As her stroke completes the final y to her apology, Audrey's hand shakes uncontrollably as she clings to the pen, the though of what she is contemplating covering her hands with sweat. As her tears cause the ink to run, she lets the pen fall from her grasp, smacking hard against the table before it rolls to the floor.

She cannot bring herself to sign her name to the piece that offers nothing but the pain and confusion she feels inside.

Twisting the lid off the bottle, she fills her palm with the bright red pills, the dye almost immediately staining her hand crimson.

Looking into the glass of water, her words on the paper that lay just beyond appear blurry, or maybe it's just the tears in her eyes. Everything around her seems to be fading into each other, her mind clouded with thoughts, feelings, images and memories she cannot escape, and the pain of enduring them is too much to bear any longer.

Taking a sip of the water, the well taste wrinkles her nose,making her shiver at the thought of choking down that which she has clasped in her hand.

Closing her fingers over the handful of pills, she closes her eyes, trying once again to swallow against the dryness in her throat, trying to will herself to do, what at this moment feels like her only choice.

Sitting in the pool of moonlight that streams through the window pane, she pauses, a small tear trickling down her cheek as she glides her free hand over her stomach, the tiny little flutter moving within her choosing this moment to gently remind her that she is not completely alone, despite the isolation she feels.

Spilling the contents of her hand into the sink, flushing them quickly down the drain with water, she clings to her stomach, her love for Lex, her love for their child willing her to continue on with her journey, vowing to fight for them as long as there is breath left in her body.


	15. Chapter 15

As had become the custom, the entire house was stirring hours before Audrey stretched her way out of her slumber into the new day.

Brushing her hair out of her face she can smell the slight residue that the pills had left in her palm, and the mere memory of those agonizing hours spent before dawn make it hard to face her own reflection in the mirror.

Spinning to face the window, Audrey looks out, able to find inspiration each morning in the low sun draping the massive land in its orange veil.

Typically she's treated to the sight of Clark doing his chores at an incredible rate, blurring through the work of the twelve farm hands Jonathan never needs to hire.

However, this morning she finds him propped up on a bale of hay in front of the barn, a small calf nestled in his arms. Clark holds a bottle of milk which the small cow nuzzles from, as Jonathan looms behind him, repositioning the bottle either as the proud teacher or worrisome farmer.

She can tell this is a chore Jonathan likes to take care of himself, but this morning he's allowing his son to take one more step towards the responsibilities he believes will make his son a man.

Seeing Clark tenderly cradle the orphaned calf, his every move so gentle and kind, she can't help but let a tear slip from her eyes. Overriding her regret for the thought that she let take over her mind in that weak instant lays the beaming pride of just being allowed in the presence of one as special as Clark.

However, the smile the sight of someone as caring and dutiful as Clark brings to her face can't erode the knot in her stomach or cure her of the dizziness in her head. Her world still feels as though it is crashing, and her heart seems too sad to continue to beat alone.

Yet, within her resides resolve, an unquenchable spirit that pulls her out of the room, and out to face yet another day without him.

_**X x X x X**_

As much as Audrey hoped that relieving herself of the paper she had been burdened with for months would free her from its oppression, she knows in the back of her mind she will never be free from it.

Even now, well into a new day, she sits alone in the loft of the barn trying desperately to escape into a world without worry, a world that only seems to only exist in her canvas.

Still finding it difficult to escape the pangs of regret for the emotions she can't help but feel, she sits bathed in the warm sunlight that streams through the hay door window, wondering just how she can continue to live a life without Lex.

Placing her hand down on her stomach, her mind begins to drift to the only piece of him she has left; the innocent child within her which is all she has left to live for.

Letting her soft lashes rest against her cheeks, she tries to drift back to that day in the past when everything seemed perfect. Oh to just spend one more day, one more hour, one more minute in his warm embrace. What she wouldn't give to hear him whisper in her ear 'I love you,' one more time.

Clinging to the only dream between she and Lex she has not been awakened from, her fingers cradle her fabric covered flesh, longing to feel his hand glide over her own, needing him to know the miracle they created between them.

Yet despite the hopes in her heart, her mind's reasoning tells her she must flee from her dream to return to the past, causing her reality to seem more vivid than she wants to accept.

Instantly, as though summoned by the cries of her broken heart, she hears the soft clicking of heels against the wooden planks to the loft, her heart knowing it's him before her eyes see it's true.

Instinctively she drops her hand from her stomach, turning as though in slow motion to see him coming up behind her.

Within feet of her he stands; impeccably dressed; hands deep in his pockets; his lips revealing a hint of a smile. Feeling as though her skin is the only thing holding her together, she fights against the urge to jump up to embrace him.

"Lex?" she says, having to feel his name pass as a whisper between her quivering lips to believe he's there.

His eyes rush to hers, ready to obtain all the answers he knows she hides, the fiber of his being needing to unriddle the enigma that surrounds her and the long shadow it casts upon him.

Standing in the presence of the one she longs for shivers her; fearful of what may come if she is to follow once again where her emotions lead.

Despite how she so desperately needs to be held in his embrace and never have to feel the bitter chill of loneliness again, she hides behind the wall of safety the fear within her has created; scared of hoping for lighting to strike twice.

Immediately sensing her guard, he moves past her, stepping towards the canvas with only a few lonely stokes gracing it.

"A work in progress?" he asks slyly, passing her a glimmering eye with a side glance.

"Aren't we all?" she responds quietly.

Choosing his moment carefully, he begins again, possessing a much softer, sincere tone. "I'd like to start over with you."

Surprised and confused she gets up, feeling uneasy under his gaze.

"I didn't intend to make you feel uncomfortable," he says, respecting her need to keep distance between them. "The other day at my house I think we got off on the wrong foot, I'm sorry about that."

His eyes plead with her to allow him to stay, longing to explore these feelings within him that have left him searching for answers. All of the questions seem to point to her, and he has to know why.

She feels between them the same electricity she felt that night they first met. She can see the same vulnerability in his eyes. If only he had come in acting like he did in the mansion, devouring her with his eyes, wanting nothing more than to toy with her. She could stand up to that. She could resist him, and be glad she had done it. But now, with that look in his eyes, and that electricity in the air she feels powerless under the intoxicating spell that his love puts her under. It's evident even the shock therapy couldn't erase what they had between them. Even if Lex doesn't know what it was, he feels it deep within him, and no matter of logic will allow him to reason it away.

She shuffles her feet closer to him, his chest looming before her. She lays her hands on it to feel his lungs move, to see if he's as excited to see her as she is him.

To her surprise, Lex doesn't retreat or rebuke her. Instead, he lays one hand upon hers. Instantly she can sense this is familiar to him and therefore welcome. His touch doesn't come as a wanton lover hungry for her flesh, but as an intimate lover, desperate for the warmth of her heart.

It's everything she hoped to feel, and she's startled at how much it terrifies her.

"You want to go for a walk or something?" she pushes back, her eyes instantly showing she's surprised by her own outburst.

She's not sure if she said it because she felt it necessary to keep Clark and Lex apart, or if it was more a personal reason: to test herself around him some more, to see if this dread she's feeling will subside, or rule her heart forever.

_**X x X x X**_

Audrey and Lex walk through the pasture of the Kent farm, the gentle breeze blowing her long dress and hair about. It tickles her to see Lex in these surroundings; his fine clothes and demeanor a stark contrast to the rural landscape, and casual girl he's paired with. She can't help but smile at his attempts to let his guard down. Removing his long coat and rolling up his sleeves, but still obviously uncomfortable with the nature walk idea.

"Is this okay?" Audrey asks Lex, seeing him dodging cow pies with expensive italian loafers.

"It's fine," he says, doing the best job he can at acting comfortable despite his predicament.

Behind her smiling eyes resides the pain of standing by his side, unable to say a million times how much she loves him.

Even this, the silly way he walks through a pasture makes it almost impossible for her to continue her ruse. Continually she has to fight against every nerve within her that cries out to hold him and be held by him, every breath proving exceedingly more difficult to draw with every second that passes.

"Have you ever noticed how differently the air smells in the county?" she asks, closing her eyes against the sun, allowing the breeze to embrace her.

She turns towards him, blinking her opened eyes against the bright sun. "There's a thickness to the air in Metropolis. Like it could almost choke you if you were to inhale it for too long," she says pausing. "I never want to be smothered by a world I don't belong in."

Lex hangs on her words, struck by how much this mysterious girl reminds him of someone. For most of his life he had been raised to only see land as something to purchase and develop, never really caring enough to take the time to notice the smell of the air. Something about her observations intrigues and comforts him.

"My mother loved the outdoors," he begins, a far off look in his eyes. "I would sit in her rose garden with her for hours. I remember her white roses climbing up the wrought iron trellis," he says, a sense of longing in his eyes, a familiar sincerity in his voice. "She told me I could climb them up to heaven to be with her when she was gone."

Revealing that beautiful fragile side of him so often seen, his eyes fall to the ground, a painful realization slipping free from his lips. "When she passed away she took with her my ability to see the world outside the window as anything but a painful reminder of her."

"I never knew Lillian liked white roses," Audrey whispers, regretting her words as soon as they escape her lips.

Lex's head whips around, his stunned expression causing Audrey to fear what words he might speak next.

"How did you know my mother's name?" he asks, ready to have this and the many other questions surrounding Audrey answered.

As her heart pounds, her mind races over all the scenarios this conversation could lead to. Paralyzed by her own fear, she can do nothing but stand in front of him.

Despite how obvious her slip seemed to be, Lex seems to quickly understand that his family is not like others, the Luthor family tree practically being a subject taught in school.

"I guess my lineage is common knowledge," he says, almost embarrassed that he momentarily forgot his family's status in society.

She blushes, happy that it appears she dodged a bullet.

Leaning down, she slides off her shoes, allowing herself the pleasure of feeling the soft grass beneath her. If only she could fully surrender to the freedom the beauty all around her is willing to provide. If only her mind would relinquish it's hold over her heart, enabling her to forget all that had happened, and allow her to just be happy to be alone with him for as much time as they could steal.

As her bare feet dig in the soft earth, her tiny toes nestle into the cold soil, seeming to one to plant herself in this moment.

Stricken with the realization that there may never be another tomorrow for them; she lets herself go. She leans her head back, allowing her arms to follow her around as she pirouettes like a delicate flower caught in the breeze. Her tiny sandals dangle from her hand, bouncing against the wind.

Lex is entranced. Not just by her graceful elegance and delicate beauty, but by the sheer familiarity of the scene playing out in front of him. Trained to be chivalric he instinctively takes her shoes from her, lightening her load to enable her to continue. The seemingly simple gesture ignites a flash within his mind leaving him reeling with the effects of yet another case of deja vu.

Audrey sees his expression change, her eyes following him as he takes a step backwards, shaking his head oddly. "Are you okay, Lex?" she asks, alarmed by his behavior.

"Have we done this all before? Is all of this familiar to you?" he asks, bewildered, feeling as though he has slipped back in time.

"You and I, we had something, didn't we? We were involved?" he has to ask, taking the steps down the path he knows he's traveled before.

"I keep having questions arise whenever I'm around you. Questions that stem from being in your presence," he says, pleading with his eyes for her to trust him with the answers.

Before she can even speak the words the answer is evident on her face, her crimson cheeks revealing to him that she is indeed the reason he has been having memories he cannot explain. Even if she was ready to confide in him the events of their past she knows her lungs will not be able to produce the air to speak the words.

"You don't need to answer that. I know why you're scared to tell me anything. My father can be intimidating, and he's gone out of his way to keep us apart. But, as powerful as he is, I will be twice as so. If we did have something, anything, you'll be safe with me. He can't touch you if you're with me," he confidently says.

"We did. . ." she says stopping short, unsure if the truth will ease her pain or deepen it.

"We did -- what?" he says, drawing in close, hanging on her words.

He expects her to draw away, but she doesn't, preferring to bask in the warmth of his presence.

"You can tell me. I can feel we had something and if it was half of what I feel I want that back. I won't let my father take everything from me," he says, taking her hand into his.

Audrey's heart pounds, the rush dizzying her. She wants to believe him, she wants to trust him. But, Lionel stole him away from her once, and he can do it again. The fear of what Lionel might do to Lex should his indiscretions come to the surface is what scares her the most.

At least now Lex is alive. As confident as she knows Lex is that he will become more powerful than his father, she knows he isn't yet. For him to achieve that status would mean he'd be worse than his father, and there would be nothing left of what she loves about him.

Worst of all, if he does defeat his father, if he does become twice the man Lionel is: then what will that mean for Clark? The ink staining the back of his painting mapped out what he would become if he gets his way.

To save Lex, to save Clark, she has to sacrifice her own heart.

"We did, Lex. But, you know yourself. Did you really think that it was anything more than it always is?" she swallows her feelings, pushing the words out from the back of her throat.

He begins to respond, a thousand reasons bounce through his head of why he knows she was different, but she stops him.

"There were others," she lies, "I was one of many girls that have floated through your life, and will float right back out. I don't know why you have these memories, why you feel the way you do, but it was nothing to you. _I_ was nothing to you."

Her own words cut into her, tearing her heart in two. He had told her so many times that she was the one, proved it in so many ways, yet she had no choice but to stand in front of him and deny that every moment they shared was special.

"But my father..."

"Is a paranoid man. You think he hasn't done the same thing to other women in your life? Perhaps he did what he did because of the way you're feeling. He cut off the possibility of you having anything that will keep you from the destiny he wants for you."

"My destiny is what I make of it."

"I hope so," she quivers, clinging to the only thing she has; her faith in him. But for now, to protect everyone, including Lex, she has to betray herself.

"But, I was never part of that destiny," she says.

She can see he's defeated, unable to know what to believe or say.

She takes his hands, allowing him to hold onto the moment, but if she were being truthful she's allowing herself one last touch.

As though two magnets, no longer able to fight the urge to be joined, their lips meet, giving way to the rush of emotions raging within them both.

His hands glide down her form, needing to bring her close to him, and in this instant she is powerless to him, feeling as though she is being kept alive by the air he gives to her.

Indulging in the dizzying kiss, she barely feels his hands venturing further down her until he brushes softly against her stomach. Startled, she pulls away, instinctively protecting that which he cannot know.

Her quick move allows the bright sun to hit the gold of her necklace, the dancing light catching his eyes. He slowly moves his hand towards her neck, delicately gliding his fingers across her skin, hooking the necklace under one of them. Breathless from the intimate gesture, and longing to lose herself once more in his touch, she closes her eyes, not seeing him gently pulling the chain free from her bodice where she had hidden it out of view.

A small charm dangles beneath the necklace that is looped around her thin neck and his forefinger. As it spins in the light it sends tiny prisms bouncing off her pale cheeks. His eyes widen with the realization of what this piece represents.

She opens her eyes, seeing in his a flash of light. Suddenly conscious of that which he holds in his hand, she takes it from him and tucks it back away out of sight.

"You may not have been an important piece of my past, but perhaps you could be part of my future," he says with glimmering eyes.

Knowing she has to be strong, she fights the part of her that longs to hold him, knowing unfortunately any possibility of forever with him is gone.

Sliding her hands loose from his grip, she feels as though she is trying to kill herself again, and it takes all her strength to slip her finger under her sandal straps that are still in his grasp.

In her he sees a willed strength, feeling for some reason she is refusing to let him in. He smiles, handing her sandals to her, holding his gaze before turning and pulling his thin frame off towards the west.

Audrey's chest aches. Her body exploding with nerves, her knees practically giving way under the burden of her body. She sits down, knowing that if she remains standing Lex might turn and see her stumble, and then her ruse would fail. She sits down among the grass and watches Lex shrink into the distance. If he looks back, if he turns to look at her, then she's failed.

Thankfully, as he disappears over the horizon, he never takes his gaze off of the path ahead of him.

She lies back in the grass, the stress of the day consuming her. Despite the bright sun warming her face, the darkness of a future without the man she loves finally sets in.

Like a damn that has broken, her eyes release a flood of tears, raining down into the soil beneath her where she is crumpled like a child.


	16. Chapter 16

Although he has spent his entire life on this farm, Jonathan never tires of watching the dust being kicked up by the tractor. The smell tickles his fondest memories of being a child to life. He'd sit out on the fence watching his father swing back and forth through the fields dreaming of the day when the land would be his own, when his own son would till the same soil kept fertile by generations of Kents.

Never happier than he is in moments like these, working his

family's farm, alone with his thoughts and the beautiful land the good Lord has blessed him with. Stretching his tiring muscles, he looks out to the horizon, the dust sparking off of the setting sun, setting fire to the air around him as it clouds his vision with nothing but happy memories.

Jonathan stops the tractor, far too eager to stop and dwell in the moment. Grains and dirt swirl in the air around him settling on his clothes, his hair, and his hands. The grains of his fields consume the landscape, a solid blanket of yellow and gold, making it far too easy to see the spot of lavender laying in the field.

He recognizes the sight instantly, another memory from his past, although he certainly wasn't a child. When he first brought Martha home to his farm from Metropolis he had a difficult time convincing her that the decision to stay with him, here, was not a mistake. It wasn't until they had their first picnic, here in the field, that she fell in love with the land as deeply as she had with him. That spot became Martha's favorite on the farm. Clark has his loft, but Martha has her field.

Jonathan hops off of his tractor and traipses through the grain to join his wife, ready to steal a moment or two hidden beneath the shadowy tree she loves so well. Although she often retreats to this spot to be alone, she never denies Jonathan his intrusions. To her, her field, her spot, is equally theirs.

The summer Clark disappeared to Metropolis, Martha laid out here often, fully appreciating the symbolism of what this field did to her love of the city, and hoped that its magic would find its way to her son. The way the golden sun illuminates it this instant, it appears to be nothing shy of magical.

From his narrowing distance, he can tell she is lying down, as she often does when stealing a moment for herself. The slight curve of her form peeks up just enough to soften the flat rural landscape, and Jonathan smiles at the prospect of being by her side.

Bounding like a eager suitor, he reaches down and plucks a bouquet of wildflowers, longing to give back to her a sliver of the gifts she has filled his heart with.

Finally reaching her, he takes a second to find his breath, his heart beating as hard as it did the first time he brought Martha here. If only this person lying before him was Martha.

"Audrey?"

_**X x X x X**_

Martha expertly kneads a lump of dough between her fingers, dusting the counter with flour, rolling out the dough to begin cutting her biscuits. It's getting late, and she's behind on her dinner. She knows Jonathan will be driving his tractor back to the barn soon, the rumbling of the engine echoing off of the rickety walls. It's a familiar sound which is as comforting as it is rattling.

However, it's the fact that he's late, that the sound is not

rumbling in her ears, that worries her more than the idea that she may not have dinner on the table in time.

Her spine tingles, a fear and worry all too familiar to any

mother; A feeling with no logic or reason, which makes it all the more terrifying.

Driven by a feeling, _that_ feeling that just leaped in her head, she puts down her dough, finding her way to the door as her mind races over every worse case scenario. Swinging the screen door open, paying no regard to the state of her dinner, or the mess she's just made, she brings her eyes to the field, freezing forever in her mind the image before her.

Bits of wet flour drip from her fingers as her hands hang limply at her side, her breath sliding down her throat where it will remain for what will seem like an eternity.

Silouhetted against the sun, Audrey is draped in Jonathan's strong arms, casting a dark shadow over their beautiful home. She knows her husband. His face betrays neither heartbreak nor pain. His eyes lock on their house, locking on her own. Martha doesn't need to hear him speak the words for her to know what he is steeling himself to have to tell her.

_**X x X x X**_

Clark's sense of smell may not as developed as the rest of his senses, but he needn't any powers at all to smell the dinner his mother's preparing downstairs. His heightened hearing does hear the pounding of her small fists against the counter; an all too familiar sound when his Mother is making biscuits from scratch.

It's a welcome sound because biscuits often mean they are

having fried chicken, and Clark is quite convinced that his mother's fried chicken alone justified his trip across the expanse of space.

His mother pounding out biscuits is a routine which he knows well, a skill she in fact prides herself on and a welcomed sound in their home. Soon, he will hear the crackling and popping of the chicken hitting the oil. Growing up in the home of such a precise cook, he can almost count from the time he hears the last pound of the biscuit to the moment the first chicken piece hits the fryer.

Allowing himself to be a little boy, he counts, amusing himself with a slight divergence from his homework. When he reaches the magic number, he doesn't hear the sizzling of the oil. Instead, he hears the dry grinding of the kitchen door's hinges, followed quickly by the smacking of the screen door against the frame. _Why is his mom going outside?_

Clark's large strides takes him on the short journey to his

bedroom window, breezing quickly past the vase of roses soaking up remnants of the setting sun. Just beyond the barn, shadowed by the quickly fading light, he sees his dad cradling Audrey in his arms, her limp hand brushing against the denim of his jeans.

His father's head is upright, his strong legs seeming to take an eternity to cover the short distance from the field to the house, and in these mere moments that take so long to unwind, it's the look on his father's face that tells him the most.

Not sure what has happened, Clark stands frozen, one thought refusing to escape his mind. Even though he has all of his abilities, even though he can do all of the things he can, he knows now without a doubt, his father is the strongest man he will ever know.


	17. Chapter 17

Martha is beginning to think she may never reach her destination. Although the trip to the Luthor mansion is a short one, exhaustion is starting to take a toll on her stamina. She's been running on adrenaline from the moment she saw Jonathan carrying Audrey's lifeless body towards their house, moving nonstop despite how useless any immediately action might've been. Yet, she knows there were so many things yet to take care of, so many things to settle. Countless hours had already slipped by, and she's still going as though trapped in a

fog, unable to focus on anything but that which has to be done.

The rain soaked asphalt shimmers like diamonds illuminated by the ornate lanterns outside the gate of the Luthor mansion. The steady shower comes down in sheets, creating a calming, almost hypnotic rhythm as it hits against the glass windshield and is quickly swished away by the movement of the wipers. Thick clouds hang low in the night sky blotting out the tiny stars that usually reside there. Martha peers through the windshield, almost haunted by the darkness. The low hanging

clouds eerily remind her of the shadow looming over her. If only she could look out and see a beautiful sunset; God's artistic genius, a palette of unparalleled beauty that seemed to promise a happy end to each day it took with it. How many sunsets she had gazed upon never thinking she would take them for granted, but now she realizes she somehow had. She would give anything to hang on to the sun that seemed to set too soon this day. For the darkness this night is almost too much

to bear.

Martha drives the truck through the opened gate, pulling up close to the large double door entrance. Her late night visit to the house thankfully does not startle anyone. By the looks of things from the window Lex is still stirring himself.

She had thought it best to make this visit alone, but now sitting in the driveway she's finding it difficult to even climb out of the car. How she wishes she had the luxury to save these moments, knowing that once her words are spoken they would forever change the future, forever changing Lex's path. Yet, no matter how much time she fights to keep, it only serves to postpone the inevitable, prolonging that which she has come to do.

Summoning up the strength from deep within, she reaches over to the passenger's seat, grabbing up the already soaked umbrella lying in a puddle on the vinyl truck seat. Taking in a quick breath, she pops the door open, releasing the umbrella through the crack in the door, then following it close behind she jumps out of the truck.

Even though Martha had been in the Luthor Mansion many times before, it never fails to steal her breath each time she enters it. The gothic structure that Lex calls home is almost like being in another world, opposite in every way from the humble farm that is her home. The entrance alone is big enough to sit her entire house into, and yet she wouldn't trade what she has for such luxury in a million years. Despite all the riches and treasures held between these walls, Martha knows the greatest riches in life do not dwell there. The heavy darkness of the

cold stone walls smother out any glimmer of light on even the brightest summer day, seeming to squash out any fledgling seed of happiness before it even has its chance to take root.

She makes her way towards Lex's study, the sheer magnificence of her surroundings paired with the quiet stillness of the hall is intimidating enough without it being combined with the weight of the visit she has come to pay. Her lone steps on the marble floor are soon met with more as a young man hurriedly brushes past Martha on his way down the hall, heading towards the outside.

"Excuse me, can you please tell Lex that I'm here?" Martha asks, familiar with the routine of needing to be announced in the Luthor house.

The man is startled, seeming to have been caught in some sort of act. His hair and clothes are soaked from the rain, and he appears anxious to go right back into the storm.

"I...I don't work here. I don't work for Mr. Luthor," the man

stammers, taking his leave before Martha even has time to respond.

Unsure of what to think or say she watches him flee from the house. Turning back towards the hall, not seeing another soul to speak with, she calls out "Hello?" her voice carrying down the long corridor and echoing off the walls.

It's no use. She must go against her raising, and enter the room unannounced.

The gentle turn of the handle and creak off the door seem to

surprise Lex who is seated at his desk. He raises his head, seeing Martha standing in the doorway.

"Mrs. Kent," he says, sliding a manila folder over the document he was engrossed in.

"Lex," she begins softly, moving closer towards him, handling the situation as delicately as she can.

"I already know," he says calmly, clipping her words as he rises from his desk.

His blunt confession unsettles her, leaving her unsure how it is he came by this information so quickly.

Moving towards the bar to prepare himself a night cap, he asks, "Can I get you a drink, Mrs. Kent?"

She promptly answers him with a quick shake of her head. She never indulged in alcohol, and his use of it as a deterrent from the current subject matter disappoints her.

As her eyes follow him towards the fire, she detects a glimmer in his eyes she has never seen before; a hint of emotion that he seems to want to fight against. He lifts his glass, hoping to drown the dozens of thoughts swirling through his head with a swig of brandy. As the burning sting of liquor strikes his throat, it seems to multiple the moisture already pooled in his eyes.

"I'm sorry," she says, searching his face for a reaction. "I just felt it was right for someone to tell you personally. I know you were very fond of her work", Martha says, hoping somehow her words can penetrate the walls around him.

Holding within her heart all the tender memories that Audrey had shared with her about Lex and their relationship together, Martha finds it excruciating to watch him stand there emotionless knowing that the woman he had loved is dead. As he swigs his alcohol, it takes every ounce of power in her tiny frame to not slap the glass out of his hand and shake him into the reality of the situation.

Martha aches for all the pain Audrey had endured. All the memories she shared with Lex that were stolen from her as if they were nothing. She had lost everything she had to protect Lex. The fact that Lex could not feel that makes it seem to Martha as though a large part of him had died, too. His father had left his heart beating, but stolen away everything it which it beat for. The beautiful girl who had breezed into his life changing it forever was taken too soon, succumbing to her fate

alone in a field, not far from the castle she could never call her home.

"We were all very lucky to have met her," Martha says, breathing out what she had thought about Audrey for some time.

Lex blinks against her words, knowing what he must have had with Audrey, yet his own mind is too crippled to recall it as he feels he should. All he has are a few scattered memories, flashes and glimpses of the life that might've been. Glimmers of the past that seemed to appear in his mind out of nowhere, leaving him only full of more questions, longing to be able to relive it all again. For the slivers he's able to recall provide him more happiness than he has ever known; happiness he knows has to stem from those seven weeks that were stolen from him.

The fact that he is unable to feel the full impact of this loss

seems to hurt him the most, cementing the fear he has had for so long: his life, his mind and his heart are merely pawns for his father to play with.

_**X x X **_

Martha had come there longing to comfort, hoping somehow to be needed by Lex. Yet, how much she wishes Lex was like Clark, still willing to lean upon her for support and comfort, she knows Lex was cut from a different cloth. She had experience with men such as Lex, her husband was very much the same, having to find his own way, only understanding the answers if they were found himself. Accepting that, she simply offers him her hand on his arm, the gesture impacting him greater than any words ever could.

"As soon as the arrangements are made, I'll let you know when the service is," Martha says tenderly, honoring Audrey by treating Lex as she'll never be able to again. "She didn't have any family to speak of, so Jonathan and I are taking care of everything," she says, striving to hide the worry she has about the costs involved.

"I'll handle everything Mrs. Kent," he offers, keeping his eyes on the fire. "She was kind enough to share her work with me, It's only right that I repay the favor."

Every memory he had enter his mind since the moment Audrey came to Smallville filled in a piece of the puzzle that he has been fighting to solve for weeks. Although the image is not complete, he knows enough to fill in the blanks. Despite how Audrey refused him as he connected the pieces through her, his heart told him differently. She had striven to hide that final piece that would leave no doubt to their connection.

Once he had seen it they both knew, and yet did not know how to go on. For living among broken pieces had left them both broken inside. It seemed that the cracks between them were large valleys, and they both were scared of what might be lying in the darkness.

So he had walked away, leaving her to stand alone, feeling himself more alone despite the fact that he had found the one he loved again. How much he wished he could still be standing on that hill beside her; how many things he would have said differently. All the things he should have done. In trying to respect her space, he took his leave, not knowing it would be the last chance he would have to tell her that he knew what she meant to him.

Martha can see his mind working, his eyes beginning to show the signs of what he had endured. Although she wants to be able to tell him the whole story of Audrey, fill in the pieces of his memory that were erased, she knows the knowledge that Audrey entrusted her with could not be shared with Lex. She knows there is too much at stake for the future of her son, the words on the back of the painting still fresh in her mind.

Torn over her desire to mother Lex, and her duty to protect her son, she knows all she can give Lex is a sliver of Audrey, hoping if fate had intended that he get back his memory of her, it also meant that he and Clark were destined to end up as enemies as well. Martha believes in fate, and has faith that whatever she does here tonight cannot change the will of destiny.

"Lex, I want to give you something," she begins, sliding her hand down into her pocket.

He turns towards her, intrigued at the possibility of what is

lingering in his mind could be the item of which she is referring.

"I thought you might like to have something that belonged to her," Martha says, noticing instantly the interest in his eyes.

She slips out a small white box out of her pocket, removing the lid gently. The dancing flames in the fireplace illuminate the yellow gold chain that lies in the box. Martha delicately picks up the necklace, allowing it to coil softly into the palm of her hand.

Lex cannot hide what he is feeling within, the flood of emotions surging through him evident on his face, despite how much he purses his lips to fight them.

Reaching over, he takes the delicate chain into his hand. Raising his arm, he brings the necklace in front of his gaze, allowing the tiny charm to spin in the air before him.

"Why this piece?" he asks curiously, not removing his eyes from the dainty piece of jewelry.

"I don't know, really. It just sort of spoke to me," Martha says, honestly not knowing why she felt so compelled to give the necklace to Lex.

"You have impeccable taste, Mrs. Kent," he says, bringing the necklace down, clasping his hand around it. Turning his head to finally face her, he adds "and amazing intuition."

Martha stands puzzled with uncertainty. not sure what the

relevance of that particular piece of jewelry means, but seeing it

undeniably is priceless to Lex.

Still not fully able to believe that which he saw just hours

before hanging around Audrey's neck was the proof he was looking for, Lex has to glance down at the piece in his palm, he has to be sure. The undeniable presence of the necklace leaves no doubt in his mind about what Audrey meant to him; for all the memories could be taken, but the truth would always find a way to be told.

Lifting his eyes to meet Martha's he offers her the truth.

"It was my mother's."


	18. Chapter 18

Alone again in the mansion, Lex walks towards the glass shelves in his study, stopping in front of the small framed painting Audrey gave to him. In a simple motion, he gently drapes the chain over the art, allowing his finger to caress the glass as he pulls his hand away.

He often showered his conquests with diamonds; jewelry that is valuable in every way but sentimentally. Yet, one, and only one, had touched him enough to share the one priceless piece of jewelry he owned. A simple chain with a tiny rose charm that barely was worth what he spent on a night out was the biggest gift he had ever given, for it symbolized him giving her his heart.

As a child he often played with the necklace, looping it around his finger, holding the charm as he laid in his mother's arms. Just before she died she slid it off her neck and laid it in his hands, clasping it closed with her fragile fingers.

"One day when you fall in love you can give this to your beloved. The woman who wears this will never want for roses, for she will always have this one close to her heart, and you there to tend to it," she whispered upon his innocent ears.

Back at his desk, he opens back up the file which he concealed when Martha came in. His finger glides down the document, stopping above the information he had been seeking. He didn't think he had any more to lose. He lost his mother, Audrey, so many priceless memories, but now it seems he has lost much more. He had lost his future.

Audrey's medical records lay before him, obtained in the usual Luthor fashion. Lex was certain that when he regained his memory, that his past with Audrey would fit together like a puzzle, and lying before him is the final, big piece; the presumptive cause of Audrey's death.

No pills. No evil dark deed. Nothing fatal inflicted by Luthor hands, or her own. No, like a gentle breath upon a candle, the light of her life was blown out. The very one whose gentle movements saved her just the night before, in time came to stop her heart from fighting.

The papers rain down to the ground. Lex, stunned, is forced to grab onto his desk to keep from falling. Audrey had been pregnant. That's why she had been hiding from him, to protect her child; their child. She had fought to protect it from Lionel, for fear that Lionel would do the same to the child as he had done to Lex.

Lex hadn't lost his future, his father had stolen it from him.

Lex contemplates throwing the contents of his desk to the floor or smashing the furniture in the room. But, how will that help? How would that release the anger and frustration welling up inside him? He needs more.

Lex knows that Lionel erased his memory to eradicate knowledge that he feared. That knowledge is the only weapon Lex could use to inflict the pain he needs to upon his father.

Above all else, in whatever way possible, Lex has to get that knowledge back.

_**X x X x X**_

Finally, the warm glow of the porch light welcomes Martha home. She finds it funny how, in times like this, the details become so vivid. She has grabbed the doorknob to her home so often, doing so is reflexive, an act she doesn't even think about. But, today, she can't help but appreciate the simplicity.

Entering through the porch door, she sees Clark waiting for her at the kitchen table clutching a glass of cold milk.

Setting down her purse on the counter, she goes to him, kissing him upon his head, comforting him with her touch.

She had already pondered what words she should speak to him first. She knew he would have too many questions that she might not have answers to. Death is such a difficult concept for an ordinary person to comprehend; the finality of it seeming almost difficult to grasp, and painful to try to.

Martha aches at seeing her powerful son reduced to a defeated boy, his large frame slumped over, his head hanging down. She knows Clark Kent is far from ordinary; for the hardest things for one to endure are doubly so for him.

"Why couldn't I have been there? Maybe I could've-" Clark says desperately, his words quickly silenced by his mother.

"There was nothing you could have done," Martha says, having to tell him that which is still hard to grasp herself. "There's nothing anyone could've done. What happened to her was a completely natural thing, something that sadly happens everyday."

"What are you saying?"

"Clark, people are going to die. Eventually, ones you love. Even me and your father. We're fragile, and we break. Although you can do all of the things you do, and you have all of the powers you have, you can't change that."

"But, I'm unbreakable," Clark tries desperately to grasp the issues. "I'm not human."

"That's not true," she says, making sure he hears her next words, grasping his hands tightly into her own. "Your skin may be impenetrable, but Clark, your heart can feel that which is most important."

Lifting his hand, and holding it close to his chest, she says, "Feel that? It's your heart, your human heart and it's aching just like the one inside me. They call it heartache because that's what it is. An aching down inside that reminds us how precious life is, and how we should treasure each moment we are blessed to receive," her tender words soothe him, as her sweet eyes gaze into his.

"This grief you have is because your heart is broken. I raised you to always listen to your heart, Clark. Today it may feel as though you will never feel anything but heartache, but I promise you there will be a day it with skip a beat with the joy of love."

Clark had spent most of the evening replaying his father carrying Audrey in from the field, her still body cradled in his arms. He remembered every feeling and every thought he had. He believed his father was the strongest person on earth. Now, looking into his mothers unwavering eyes, it's apparent to him he was wrong. Although she hides it beneath a delicate exterior, he can see his mother possesses strength equally as great.

_**X x X x X**_

Clark fell asleep quickly on the couch, his discussion with his mother seeming to ease some of his pain, thus allowing him some much needed rest. The day had been a long one, and everyone knew the next ones ahead would be equally difficult. Martha made him up a bed in the living room, thinking it best that she tidy up his room, the room where Audrey last slept, of all of her private things before everything began to fall back to normal in the Kent house.

Watching him sleep peacefully takes one thing off Martha's list of worries. Carefully tucking the quilt around him, he repositions his head further into the down pillow. Leaning down she gently kisses him on the forehead, turning down the light as she leaves the room.

Walking up the stairs her eyes catch the numerous pictures of her family in the frames that grace the walls. Their smiles remind her of how precious life is. Looking into a picture of Clark, his wide smile beaming, she can't help but think how blessed she is to have found him. Her mind begins to picture the walls of the Luthor mansion. There were no pictures in frames, no portraits of a family. So many countless priceless artifacts, but not a single picture showing Lex in a happier time. Not one image of Lex and Lionel together. Not even an early print of Lillian with her son. There was absolutely no evidence that a family ever existed there, and this sad realization makes Martha's heart hurt more.

_**X x X x X **_

Jonathan's nasally snore seems almost like a serenade as she quietly opens the door to her bedroom. It's comforting to hear him sleeping so soundly.

Moving towards the bed she can see his mud covered boots sitting on the floor, leaving their mark on her ivory rug. Any other night this action would land him on the opposite end of Martha's wrath, but this night she only sees it as one of the lovely signatures of the man she loves.

Going to his bedside, she adjusts the sheet up around him. As he lays on his side snuggling the pillow that belongs to her, she feels a wave of emotion flow through her. How lucky she is to have this amazing and handsome man by her side.

She leans down to kiss him, gently brushing her soft cheek against his rough stubble. As she rises back up, she tenderly strokes her hand through his dirty blonde hair. "I love you," she whispers upon sleeping ears.

Leaving the room, she slides open her chest of drawers, taking out Lex's painting from Belle Reve. She tucks it beneath her blouse, turning back to gaze upon her beloved once more, then softly closes the door behind her.

Coming back down the hallway, she pauses in front of Clark's room. Unable to fight the urge to go in, she enters, switching on the bedside lamp. There on the table remain the elaborate bouquet of white roses Lex sent to Audrey, although now they seem to display what Martha is feeling inside. Their once strong stems are now weak, so they curl and bend. The beautiful blooms seem to have lost their innocence, now brown and bruised. Her eyes move to the bed, seeing Audrey's nightgown neatly folded on the pillow. Martha's hand slides across the feminine satin gown, rubbing the tiny pearls and ribbon with her fingers. The gentle spirit who dwelled here briefly seems to still be present in the room. Martha holds her own arms against the chill, as she fights against the lump that develops in the back of her throat.

Martha slips down the stairs, careful not to wake Clark, she

checks on him once more. All is peaceful for a moment, so she quietly slides out the back door.

Clasping her hands between her knees, she takes a seat on the top step of the porch still wet from the earlier storm. Aiming her gaze towards the stars, she tries to find comfort in the endless possibilities of the universe. Comfort is hard to find there, though. The only thought that comforts her mind is that her son sleeps peacefully on the couch, and her husband snores in bed.

Holding out the rolled painting that Audrey entrusted her with, Martha strikes a match against the wooden porch door, igniting a flicker of light in the darkness. Holding it to the heavy parchment paper, the piece is quickly engulfed in an orange glow of heat. As the piece is reduced to ash, the night breeze carries it away, scattering Lex's possible destiny to the wind. She hopes that doing so will give him an opportunity to forge a new path of his own choosing, not Lionel's.

Martha shuts her eyes allowing the crickets' symphony to consume her ears, and she gives in to the peacefulness of a Smallvile night. Her loved ones are safe. The house is quiet, and suddenly she realizes there is no one left for her to take care of; no one left to comfort or console.

Finally able to take a moment for herself, she begins to feel the burden of her loss. What Audrey had meant to her could never be erased by a flickering flame. Audrey had paid the greatest compliment one could to a mother; she believed in Martha's son.

Hidden away from the eyes of Jonathan and Clark, she lets go of her tears, and grieves her lost friend.

_x x x x x x x x x x x x x_

_The End_

_Author Note: I will be posting a final chapter--the epilogue to this story within the next week. Thank you so very much for sticking with this fic. All of your comments have truly touched me--and I cannot thank you enough for all of your feedback. :) I co__ntinue to write because of people like you--so from the bottom of my heart, I thank you. Jennifer_


	19. Epilogue

**Author's note: **Well my dear friends, it's time to finally put my baby to rest. This was my first fan fic, and it's still the most dear to my heart. It has been a wonderful learning experience writing this, as well as a lesson for my heart. To hear that I have touched you with this story, to hear that my Audrey found a way into your heart is a compliment I will always treasure.

Thank you for loving Lex and Audrey as I do, and thank you for allowing me to tell their story to you. :o

_Please Note--as you all are aware now, this story is about the events surrounding Lex in Season three. To try to place this storyline within Smallville's timeline, I am bringing this full circle with some text from the episode Delete. I have woven in my ow__n words around Lex's discussion with Dr. Garner, but I wanted to clarify that some of the dialogue are direct quotes. :) _

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

_**Epilogue:**_

Lex recognizes that swagger because he used to have it. It's the swagger of a man who believes he's invincible, who believes he can't be touched. Lex knows just as surely, that swagger makes you a target for someone to flick you off the ant hill. Lionel flicked Lex off of his ant hill, and now it was Lex's turn to do the same to Dr. Garner.

Lex thought Dr. Garner might be difficult, or at the very least a worthy opponent. But, watching him walk out of the Summerholt Neurological Institute just makes Lex think of him as an overconfident ant.

"Mr. Luthor," Garner pauses smugly, "I should have known when young Clark stopped by that you wouldn't be far behind."

If that was his best shot, Lex would have no trouble with him. Did he really think such a simple play to Lex's ego would rattle him?

Rolling his eyes at the pompous doctor, Lex decides that he doesn't have patience for the game.

"Any more attempts on Chloe Sullivan's life would be...ill-advised," Lex says, trying to sound menacing, but quickly realizes he's too exhausted to muster the energy to be so. He'd spent too much thought on Audrey that afternoon, the mystery taking more out of him than he'd imagined.

"Molly seems to have vanished into thin air. I don't suppose you'd know anything about that," Garner retorts feebily.

Thankfully, Garner was making this easy. If this were chess, Lex could see the finish, see his every move, and know Garner's every misstep.

"Molly's in the care of people who should be able to help her, not exploit her," Lex says, wondering if his righteous indignation rings false; not just if Garner judges it to be false, but if Lex himself doesn't feel it's true.

"Lex, you're a smart man, you know that the line has to be bent every now and then in order to make progress," Garner says, sounding just like Lex did before the winter. For the first time, Lex begins to see the world through his father's eyes. He can see himself throwing a half-learned lesson back at his father, and lets the same knowing sneer that used to decorate his father's face creep across his own.

"I believe there's a difference between bent and broken," Lex says, stricken with a quick shiver as his mind spins with deja vous.

_Was this a conversation they had? Was it a lesson she tried to teach him once?_

Pinching the bridge of his nose, he tries to concentrate on the soft voice in his mind, needing to hear the answers to his questions.

"You've never been so close to a discovery that you'd be willing to do anything to see it through?" Garner asks, picking up on Lex's internal struggle.

Lex thinks of Audrey, thinks of the many puzzle pieces laid out before him and how they make a picuture he doesn't recognize. He does know how close he is to unveiling the truth, and so he allows Garner's words to ring true.

"My work could change the way the world views intelligence-, thought," Garner continues, but Lex ignores him. He doesn't have to hear him to beat him, he's already anticipated these moves. Tactically, Lex is poised to spring his trap.

However, there's that pang in his heart he'd been feeling for weeks. The pang that makes him have to swallow before speaking his words.

"I don't think your research is worth the cost of innocent lives," Lex says, unable to think of anything but the innocent lives in his own past, and how his father's quest for power had extinguished them. Sliding his hand into his pocket, wrapping his finger within the delicate gold chain, his purpose becomes clear.

Rubbing the small charm between his finger and thumb, he fixes his jaw, disquising his eyes as his desires play out in his mind. He just can't let Garner see them.

"I don't think I have time for a morality lesson. Excuse me," Garner says, turning to leave, not realizing check mate is at hand.

"Chloe's article is a real page turner. Almost worth killing over. Wouldn't you say, Doctor?" Lex quips, disappointed how predictably Garner turns back to face him.

"What do you want, Lex?" Garner turns his king down.

Lex knows what his answer is supposed to be. In the simplest terms: he wants to defeat his father. He knows that isn't the best answer to allow to cross his lips, but his heart sinks when the first thought that passes his mind is how Audrey smelled.

It's a faint memory of a warm breeze carrying that scent across a sun dipped field. It's the most intimate memory he could recall of her, but it's enough to entice him to want more. It's enough to make him _need_ more.

With that being his true motivation, Lex answers, "Your help. A few months ago I had an unfortunate session of shock

therapy that basically erased seven weeks of my life. I want those seven weeks back."

**X x X x X**

The early morning sun parts the branches that stretch across the grounds, shading the lush grass still moist with dew drops. Stoically he stands; the marks from his footsteps still present behind him, his Italian loafers speckled with newly cut blades of grass. A soft breeze stirs the air, rocking the fragile magnolia blossoms, their fragrance adding comfort to this peacefully painful place.

Blocks of granite cut the earth, shining like mirrors as they reflect the bring sun. Before him rest the most elegant one, forever etched with the name of his beloved; her time on earth cut too short by circumstances he will never believe. Nature could never so callously steal a creature so gentle, a soul so pure. There is only one with the power to erase all things of beauty, and hope and life.

Leaning down, he lets his fingers glide across the letters chiseled into the stone, sweeping the fallen debris away with his breath. The beautiful script letter lined in the finest gold represent a woman who never put value in things such as that. Yet, in thinking of her, he made sure to place her in the humblest spot, tucked beneath the trees where, in happier times, he might see her perched, painting the world as only she could see it.

Lex stands erect, his coat billowing in the wind, casting a dark shadow over the earth beneath him. As though one of the ornate statues guarding the gardens, the tormented Luthor stands frozen, his mind still unable to fully recall all the tender moments that were snatched from him.

From behind his back he presents a pair of white roses, their petals the picture of perfection. Still feeling like a suitor, unworthy of the love of one so fair, he gallantly lays the pair at her feet; a rose for the dream that ended too soon, and one for the dream that never came true. His heart slowly hardens to ice in the warmth of spring, unable to accept the season which signifies a new beginning for everyone else.


End file.
